Better Days: Redemption
by ObsessiveCompulsiveforhp
Summary: When the events at DOM take a strange turn, Harry is left at Privet Drive with his thoughts, but not for long. Good!Malfoys mild Dumbledore bashing, SEVERELY AU Rating is just to be sure.
1. Prologue

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello again. I know, I know, I really shouldn't have come up with another one, but it's not my fault, honest. These plot bunnies just won't leave me alone. I have another one about Petunia; I think these are going to be a part of a series called "Redemption". The idea has been knocking about in my head for a long time, but I haven't done much work on it, since, like, OLIUP has been taking up most of my time. Or, at least, I try to make it look so.

But yeah, this is a story I hope you all will like. I've been looking for a Good!Malfoy fic for YEARS, and the closest I've found is 'Another Side of Them', by an author I can't remember; it's been that long since I've seen the fic. (If anyone knows any other good, multi-chapter or just really long ones they could point my way that'd be great!) But yeah, hope you all like it. Hope you leave me some reviews, and you know, let me know what you think/want/don't want or whatever. I am writing this for me, mostly, but I greatly appreciate feedback.

Cheers!

Never did Harry imagine he would return to Privet Drive one summer and be grateful for its bland, repetitive surroundings. Never had he imagined himself eager to begin the ridiculous list of chores set for him, grateful for the chance to focus on anything but the strange events of the last few weeks of school.

The strange vision he had been having all year suddenly changing, rushing off campus to sneak into the Ministry of Magic to save Sirius, finding the 'weapon' in the department of Mysteries that turned out to be a lousy prophecy, dueling Death Eaters and then being saved my Lucius Malfoy…and that was only one night. The poor child had materialized in the Hospital wing with all his fellow rescuers where they had been subject to a most scathing lecture by the Potions Professor before he even considered moving to attend to their injuries. They learned hours later that the Order had showed up, Voldie had been seen, several Death Eaters had been captured and Bellatrix Lestrange killed had been the last straw. Harry had slipped into unconsciousness, only to be admonished the next morning for not taking proper care of himself.

Not that it was it was _entirely his fault. Between visions from Voldemort and detentions with Umbridge, the stress of exams, food all tasted like sawdust and sleep was hard to come by. Harry had glared rather fiercely at Madame Pomphrey during this lecture, unable to raise a defense for himself because of the silencing charm Snape had cast over them the night before. _

_However, the time for being grateful for the mediocrity of Privet Drive had long since passed, and Harry was more than ready to leave dull suburbia behind for the magical surroundings of the Burrow. _

_This, however, was not to be. As Harry toiled away in the Dursley's front garden, lost in his thoughts, a well-dressed, middle-aged couple made their way up Privet Drive. Nosy neighbours peeked and stared out of their tightly drawn curtains, and Mrs. Number 2 commented to Mrs. Number 9 from across the street that 'they look right out of a catalogue'._

_Indeed they did. The woman's dress was the latest trend, something not even these suburban wives to get their hands on. Her platinum blond hair was perfectly styled and had just enough body and bounce to make every woman watching her green with envy. Her shoes would be the talk of the neighborhood for weeks because, try as they might, no one could find those exotic leather heels. At least, not in the Muggle world. _

_Her husband was likewise enviously dressed, his casual coat suit resting on his frame as if it had been mde for him, as it was, his long white blond hair hanging past his shoulders, giving him an exotic look. _

_It was strange to see such a new sight on that street, whose residents prided themselves on knowing everything there is to know about everyone, and speculation ran rampant as to where the obviously wealthy couple was going. _

_And when they stopped at the gate of Number 4, there was a collective breath of anticipation. _


	2. Introductions

The quaint, and that was the nicest description Narcissa could manage, neighborhood positively reeked Muggle. Admittedly there was something to be said for all the advancements of the Muggle world, many of which her husband had implemented into their magical household, but Narcissa was of the opinion, slightly skewed that it was, that the Muggles actually handling those advancements, researching and inventing and whatnot, were of a different breed of Muggle. A more acceptable one, you could say. Psuedo-wizards, she called them, for their ability to ask "what if?" and then create a means to answer followed the same pattern spell smiths, and those rare will-casters, used to create spells.

But the common Muggle, who could not dream beyond what they saw and accepted whatever they were given and therefore did not have a hope of ever being anything more than ordinary, Narcissa disdained with all her petite being.

The narrator does not hold high hopes for peaceful interaction between Narcissa Malfoy and the Muggles in this chapter.

Her husband, for whatever it was worth, is not as discerning, or perhaps more so. Raised to believe in the superiority of Magic, Lucius considers Muggles in two categories: Investments and Beneath-His-Notice.

Thus far, privet Drive revealed absolutely no Investments.

Knowing all this as the couple reached, then breached the gate of Number 4, we can hardly be surprised at their combined actions and reactions upon coming across a very dirty, sweaty Harry Potter elbow deep in soil.

Consider, however, the following bits of information: narcissi, despite being named for a flower, despised gardening. All plants, really. Nature, despite its powerful link to magic, was the one thing she would love to be without. You see, when she and her sister Bellatirx would argue and fight as children and then teenagers, their mother, bless her soul, would lock the girls in separate rooms till their tempers calmed. Bella, the more violent of the two, would be thrown in the first empty room their mother came across, but Narcissa was invariably sentenced to the solarium.

The indoor garden, filled with many magical, hostile plants was on the third floor of the Black house, and it is not inconceivable to think that there may have been times when the mother of three sometimes forgot to release her youngest. Narcissa spent many hours in that room, and it's many photosynthesizing occupants provided a wonderful incentive for honing her accidental magic. The act she is still most proud of is a whip of fire she learned to wield at just nine years old. That did not stop the more hardy plants from tangling her in their vines and pulling at her hair and clothing while she tried to concentrate.

Lucius, on the other hand, despises a soiled appearance. Physical fitness he agrees with, work ethic even more so, especially in little boys and young men. Filth, however, had never been tolerated in the Malfoy household, and Lucius was determined to see this trend continue. That imbecilic house elf Dobby had driven him to near distraction till he had lost him some two years previous (he'd secretly treated himself to a finger of his finest elf-made wine that night). To see a child, a wizard child, becoming filthy while doing a decidedly Muggle task on a hot day in the middle of June, well, that just made him angry.

"Mr. Potter, on your feet, immediately!"

Angry though he was, Lucius was gratified to the 'drill sargeant' voice, as his wife called it, worked on someone other than his employees, and Draco.

Harry, used as he was to his Uncle's yelling and the treatment that was certain to follow, popped up before the order was half complete, spinning to meet the faces of two of the very last people he ever expected to see in his Muggle aunt's very Muggle front yard in the heart of Muggle-burbia. There was a split second in which he stared at Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy in incredulous horror, before scrabbling to pull his wand from amidst the fold of his baggy, torn, filthy clothing.

Lucius ignored the panic flooding the child's eyes as he took in the whole look: bruised, dirty skin, unclean hair, less than a stone than he had weighed at the Ministry just last month, dressed in rags and _empty hands._

"Where. Is. Your. Wand," he hissed, hands itching to dive into the inner breast pocket of his jacket where his own wands was hidden and resisting the urge to stomp forward.

The boy before him hesitated, for several good reasons, mind you, but Lucius was an expert at getting information he wanted out of reluctant individuals. "Answer me!" The 'Dire Consequences are Looming' voice had always yielded results, and he was not disappointed.

"In my c-cupboard, with the rest of my school things."

While the Malfoys grappled with that statement, Harry's mind was a-blur. As absurd as the feeling was, standing in his aunt's front yard faced with one known Death Eater and his wife who may or may not be a Death Eater as well, he dearly wanted to slap himself for just blurting out that answer. No one, not even Snape, had inspired that level of outright obedience in him. He watched Lucius' face pale and Narcissa's lips reach a thinness only previously seen on Professor McGonagall, and wondered just how much trouble he was in. The Order was supposed to be watching him, but if Mr. And Mrs. Malfoy could just appear in his front yard, _inside_ the wards with no fuss, then maybe there was a legitimate reason to panic.

When it seemed her husband was beyond words, Narcissa took up the interrogation. "And why, in the name of all that is magical, Harry, isn't it _on your person_?" While she was gratified that the child now seemed more nervous than panicked, courtesy of the 'Explain Yourself This Instant' voice she had cultivated over years as a wife and mother, Narcissa was even more pleased to see the gears turn behind bright green eyes, to watch him consider the situation and weigh his options. Inwardly, she smirked to herself. They would make a Slytherin out of him yet.

Lucius, however, only saw a scheming child, and in his experience, scheming children had something to hide. "Mr. Potter, do not try my patience."

Harry gulped and shrugged, all thoughts of talking his way out of this fleeing from his mind like so much fog. Thoughts of the night at the Ministry flashed across his mind's eye, of Mr. Malfoy pressing a portkey to his chest that somehow transported he and all his friends to safety, and Harry suddenly felt defeated. " 'Cuz I'm not allowed it, am I?"

It is a testament to their ire that neither Malfoys reprimanded the teenager for his slurred response. Indeed, the idea that a wizard of Harry's status and rank, let alone his position as Voldemort's current kill list, was _not allowed_ his wand, which was as important to a wizard as either of his limbs, so incensed them that it was a moment before either could move.

Narcissa recovered first, giving a sharp, upward sweep of her hand that looked as if she were swatting at an insect or something equally Muggle that set Petunia's prized peonies into a smoldering mess. Lucius shot his wife a warning glance, that she completely ignored, before putting out the small fire, using perhaps more force than was necessary, sending soil and plants flowing into the grass and removing a layer of paint from the wall.

"Not allowed?" There were warning bells going off in her head. "What do you mean you're _not allowed_ to have your wand? What else are you _not. Allowed?"_

_Normally, any conversation with a 'concerned adult' would never have gotten this far. Harry had long since been an expert at deflecting and topic changes, however, with Mr. Malfoy seemingly able to read his mind and mrs. Malfoy looking ready to do bodily harm, Harry wasn't sure he could get himself out of this. So, he shrugged, careful to avoid eye contact while not looking as if he were desperately looking for escape routes. "Stuff?"_

_Narcissa, having spent her entire life living with teenagers, (her eldest sister being eleven years older and kept out of Hogwarts till her third year, Bella, her fourth) knew the myriad definitions of the singular word and was immediately enraged, whipping out her wand sand stalking after her equal enraged husband. Lucius, bless him, only knew that the term 'stuff' was a Muggle generality, and that the child would not, or could not, be specific was all he needed to know. _

_Lost in his thoughts as he was, Lucius was not aware that he pounded on the Dursley's front door, and so knocked again, before impatiently turning to the small teenager trying to sneak around the edge of the house. "Mr. Potter, come here at once! Why aren't your relatives opening the door?"_

_Once again, Harry found himself obeying the blonde man without thought. "They're not in, sir." Annoyed with himself, he shoved his hands in his pockets, glaring at the ground beneath his feet. _

"_What do you mean they are not in?" Narcissa studied the teen, the bells in her head blaring louder with each passing second. _

_Harry shrugged, unsure why they seemed to concerned for him instead of murderous. "Today's Dudley's birthday. They didn't want the fre - didn't want me around so they left me here."_

"_Alone? With no supervision?"_

_Inexperienced though he was, Harry did not think that a man's voice naturally went that high, but he kept his thoughts to himself and his eyes on the ground. "I have chores to keep me occupied." he shot a pointed look over his shoulder at the ruined garden. "They won't be pleased when they get back." And that another round with his uncle's fists, and no food, probably for days. His already deprived stomach and aching body did not approve. _

"_Well come then." Lucius stood, grasping at straws. This was certainly not how he had expected this meeting to go. "Open the door, let us all inside." A simple spell from his wand would have removed the need for Harry to let them in, but social graces drilled into him from infancy dictated that it was never socially acceptable to force entry into another's home. _

_Even if they were dirt-beneath-his-feet Muggles._

"_I can't."_

_Narcissa kept a ironclad grip on her patience as she asked, "What do you mean, 'can't'?"_

_Harry shuffled his feet, feeling as if he were suddenly faced with a towering precipice and told to jump. "T-the door's locked. I haven't a key."_

_There was silence a single moment of silence before Lucius blew the door open, the splintered remains swinging lightly as Mrs. Malfoy ushered him inside. _


	3. Conversations

THANK YOU GUYS FOR WAITING AND FOR THE AWESOME REVIEWS! Sorry this took so long. As always, this isn't mine, don't sue me.

Chapter 2 - Conversations

Through the Dursley-adorned entryway Narcissa marched him, gentle hand pressed to his filthy hair even as they passed well into the like-decorated living room where she ordered him to sit.

Harry, naturally, hesitated. He was, after all, filthy, and even if he wasn't it had long since been drilled into him to stay off the furniture. Always.

Narcissa only saw it as reason to be enraged further. "You are not allowed to, I take it?" Without waiting for an answer, she set Petunia's faux Victorian era sofa on fire before completing a swift, complicated gesture with her wand. When she was finished, a finely upholstered two-seater spun into being. Before Harry had a moment to take in just how _rich_ it seemed, he was being pushed down into it.

His immediate impression was '_soft_'. He was certain that he had never felt anything so unaccountably _soft_ in all his life. A sigh tore past his lips as he all but melted against the cushions.

Narcissa's smile was tight. "That is a Malfoy chair, Harry." She paused long enough for him to open his eyes (how did they closed) to meet her gaze. "You will always be welcome to sit on our chairs, alright?"

"As a matter of fact," Lucius interrupted, "that is the reason for this visit."

"Lucius, darling, I thought we agreed that I would handle this."

Lucius glared, before returning to his furious perusal of Petunia's meticulously decorated living room. Harry watched the byplay nervously, unsure whether he should be more afraid of the known Death Eater (that the man had saved his life notwithstanding) or the woman who managed him. Stunned as he was by the afternoon's events, he didn't quite believe they'd come all this way to tell him he'd always be welcome to sit in their chairs. Purebloods were weird, but not that weird. Not that he was going to ask and bring the attention back to him, no matter how much his curiosity burned. Narcissa relieved him of that decision a moment later.

"Harry." She was gratified to see his eyes widen and cloud over with some confusing mix of emotion, wonder perhaps, and didn't need any more clues to assume, correctly, that not many people, especially here, took the time to use his given name. Good. Another point in their favor over his present keepers, though she was sure they would earn still more points if Lucius would consent just _once_ to call the boy's first name instead of 'Mr. Potter'. They were adopting the child, after all. She sent her husband a petulant glare over her shoulder, glad Harry was too busy studying his lap to meet her gaze, a habit that would surely drive her mad within a week.

"Harry, what do you know of your parent's instructions for your care, should they leave you before they intended to?"

A rather mystified expression dominated his face then. Truthfully, Harry was beyond mystified. Of all the questions he'd expected, even if they were sort of being nice to him, this was the last one. He'd just opened his mouth to demand they give him some answers, dammit, when another voice cut him off.

"Honestly, Narcissa, I do not have time for this game Mr. Potter, go and gather your things and we will leave immediately. You will not spend another night here and the sheer Muggle-ness of this horrible place serves only to infuriate me further."

"What!" Harry rocketed to his feet.

"_Lucius Abaraxan!_" The hiss had him back in his seat before he'd even seen Mrs. Malfoy's face, and when he did Harry pressed himself back against the cushions, doing his best to appear invisible. The man in question, however, paid no attention to his wife's fearsome glare.

"Do you like living here, being treated like a house-elf?"

And suddenly Harry was enraged all over again. "Like you'd do any better! You're a death eater, you'd probably hand me over to Voldemort the minute I'm stupid enough to leave with you. And my relatives treat me fine! And even if they didn't it's none of your concern, and you can just get the hell out of my house!"

"I will _not_ be spoken to that way young man! I ought to scour your tongue with a Stingi -"

"Lucius! I told you Harry is a delica -"

"I am _not _delicate! I've been working harder than anyone else my whole life! I'm not some kind of baby!"

"Exactly." Mrs. Malfoy's voice was sad.

"Too true, Mr. Potter." Even Mr. Malfoy's tone was subdued. The sudden calm and somber attitude threw him, and Harry scrambled to his feet, hands balled into fist and tried to wrench another bout of anger from the pair.

"I'm not leaving here!" His shout echoed awkwardly in the small, quiet space, and neither Malfoy paid his attempt the least bit of attention.

"Of course you are, Harry. We cannot and will not allow you to stay here. We've come to take you home."

"But I am home." He felt like a child, stamping his foot for emphasis.

Both Malfoys froze, wands out and alert, before they relaxed just as suddenly. While Harry looked a bit bemused between them, the Malfoy's looked only grim, tired and furious in turn.

"Mr. Potter, if this was truly your home, not only would not we have been able to gain access to it, but your declaration just now would have rent us from the canopy of the purported blood wards and sent us far away. It stands to reason then, that as much as you would like us to believe otherwise, this house is not your home.

Well, _duh_. Hogwarts was his home and he knew it, however…

"I'm safest here. The blood wards protect me from harm here. Dumbledore said so."

The stupidity of that statement washed over him even as Mr. Malfoy stepped closer. Wasn't there a Death Eater standing in his aunt's living room? Hadn't Dudley broken his nose once, Vernon wallop him into near unconsciousness the night before? But they were relatives, they lived here with him, so surely there was some kind of exception? Harry was so caught up in these thoughts he didn't even question why he was giving so much information to a known enemy, or even why he _wanted_ to.

"Child, what do you know of blood wards?"

The question drew him out of his thoughts and Harry shrugged, casting his eyes around the room. Mrs. Malfoy was near the blocked up fire place, wand pointed at a family portrait of the Dursley's. From where he stood, picture-Dudley seemed to be regaling her with some tale or other, but he couldn't be sure. Maybe it was the hunger messing with his mind.

"I suppose it would have been too much to hope that Dumbledore had explained anything to you, even in part." He paused. "Or for a verbal anger." Harry flushed, much to his irritation, and studied the floor. "You will look at me when I am speaking to you."

Lucius was pleased to see the boy's eyes rise to meet his, even if they did drop to near his collar shortly thereafter. Patience, he reminded himself. The boy had been trained one way all his life. I would take time (and love and patience, Narcissa's voice recited in his head) for him to overcome such strictures. Lucius was not a patient man by nature, but fatherhood, politics and marriage had taught him to fake it.

"Mr. Potter, you are a n intelligent young wizard, though your Hogwarts scores say otherwise, a misunderstanding I assure you will be taken care of this summer. What do you think blood wards are, considering the context given to you."

Well, that was simple."

"Protection created by my mum's sacrifice, anchored in my aunt's blood. It protects the house and anyone in it from Voldemort and his followers as long as I'm here long enough to charge them, sort of, every summer."

"An astute assumption. However, does nothing about that idealistic supposition conflict with the reality you know to be true?" At Harry's perplexed look, Lucius withdrew the question. "Allow me to explain, Mr. Potter. First of all, blood wards are Dark magic, some of the darkest for the very fact that it deals with the substance of life. As such, blood wards are anchored in and protect people, not places. A building can have all the blood wards in the world woven over it, but unless those wards are anchored in an individual who is intimately linked to it, they are, and will remain null and void. Now, what kind of link do you think I am speaking about?"

The boy was pale, right down to his lips. Good. He was thinking. "Magic."

"Very good." It took all he had to keep from purring, but Lucius knew he sounded far too smug. And Severus said the boy was stupid. Obviously he couldn't recognize talent if it danced in front of him naked, and so obviously he could not be trusted to manage his own investments. Silly Snape. Here before him was a veritable little snake, old enough to be powerful in his own right yet young enough to be molded. And contrary to everyone's belief, Cissa included, he was (now, anyway) determined to mold the boy, maybe even care for the brat a little, because he wanted to.

(The author feels it necessary to point out that when pressed in future, Lucius would base his decision to adopt the boy-Who-Lived on his observation that the boy needed a firm hand, guidance and discipline, things Dumbledore has failed time and again to provide for the scion of one of the oldest and most powerful pureblood families. And if those same reporters somehow found or took pictures of him giving the boy a smile that could only be described as tender, well obviously they had found a way to manipulate wizarding photographs, hadn't they?")

For some reason he liked the child, messy hair and all, and a part of him, the part of him that made him spend hours pouring over Draco's letters and watch the boy sleep or listen to him prattle on and on about his silly little friends, wanted this child close, wanted to wipe that resigned, terrified expression off his face and dress the boy in proper clothes, and if he saw them sitting in the sitting room on a quiet night, three blonde heads and one brunette all bowed over books in companionable silence, then so what? It wasn't like he would tell anyone, would he?

"Do you understand what I am saying to you, child?"

Harry nodded shakily. "My aunt can't anchor any wards 'cause she hasn't got magic. There aren't any blood wards here. I'm not safe and if Voldemort showed up here we'd be dead."

"Yes and no child. You are indeed unsafe here, but it is not because of the threat of the Dark Lord. Your mother's protection created a barrier between you that he cannot penetrate."

"But at the department of Mysteries, and at school.." But Mr. Malfoy was shaking his head.

"Surely you realize that every time you've encountered him, _you've_ sought _him_ out?"

The clear declaration seemed to do more to shake the child than any other event that day. Though Lucius wasn't sure how it was possible, the boy paled further and he didn't need to be an Occlumens to know the child was thinking of the times he'd put his friends in danger. It took a moment for Lucius to realize the boy was shaking, and then Narcissa was billowing past him, shooting a truly impressive glare in his direction and Lucius sighed. He'd be paying for this later, he was sure.

Having been pressed into the couch for the second time that day, cushions piled against both sides, Harry, looking slightly less likely to fall apart, sought an explanation.

"I mean, it makes sense, but _how_?"

Lucius nodded, if a bit regally. It was a fair question. "I am only aware of the generalities of your first and second year, so most of my theory is supposition. However, I have years of magical study under my proverbial belt, and as such I believe that as long as you do not go looking for him, he cannot find you. Now -"

"But my first year -"

"He'd been possessing Quirell, yes? Never attacked you himself though, did he?"

Harry blinked. "He tried, in the forest…"

"Perhaps. But was it him, or Quirrell?"

Harry thought, racking his brain to remember. In the mirror room his first year Voldemort had said that Quirrell drank the unicorn blood in the forest. At his first Quidditch match, it had been Quirrell hexing his broom on Voldemort's orders. Was that because he was too weak to hex him himself, or because he couldn't see Harry at all? "It was Quirrell, but I still don't understand."

"Let me explain. I believe your mother's sacrifice when paired with the magic of the killing curse somehow warped to create some type of invisibility spell. I think, based on heresay and his own mad outbursts, that he cannot see you, would be standing right in front of you in this room but as long as you do not intend to challenge that he cannot find you. He knew where you were because Quirrell told him, ordered attempts on your life because he could not do it himself, even if he had been corporeal. Even as a shade not bound by the constraints of this world he was unable to locate you after ten years. Until you went down to that room in your first year he could not even be sure of your existence, appearance, nothing, till he saw you with his own two eyes.

"But in fourth year, at the tournament, I didn't know anything about him being there! I didn't intend to challenge him. He hurt me, he killed Cedric in front of me! Your theory can't be right."

"I can see how you can think so." The boy was incensed. Before he could retort, Lucius continued. "But you drew your wand."

"What?"

Lucius was gratified, and people would be shocked to know how much, that Harry turned his absolutely bewildered expression to Narcissa. His wife gave him Dirty Look #3, so named because it wasn't as terrifying as Dirty Look #2, or heaven forbid, #1, and attempted to explain one of the fundamental rules of magic.

"Harry, think of your wand as a sword. When do knights traditionally draw arms?"

"When they're about to fight, I guess."

"Very good. Now, do you see the connection? In all matters of magic, drawing one's wand is a tacit acceptance of the challenge, whether ii be to change one thing into another or to fight to the death. Every time you draw your wand you are accepting magic's challenge to mater it, even in little ways like a lumos charm."

Harry blinked for a moment, before looking away. "They don't teach that at school."

Narcissa smiled sadly. "No. It is one of the many ways our educational system is designed to set our muggleborn and -raised at a disadvantage. Most magically raised children are taught magical fundamentals in their early childhood and by the time they reach Hogwarts age its second nature to them."

Something flashed in Harry's eyes then, and Narcissa hid a smug smile. Wizarding Education would not know what hit it. Ignore her suggestions for educational reform, would they? If she knew Harry at all, and she liked to think she know him well enough for this, the boy would pass this and any other information he gained carte blanche to that little Granger girl, and then the W.E. office would find itself inundated with scroll-long letters of outrage and ammendments to its curriculum from the brightest witch in recent history. Sweetening the victory even more was Draco's fascination with the girl, though he stubbornly refused, even when caught doodling her name on summer assignments and Malfoy family documents, that he felt anything but disgust for the girl. She would give him until the end of the summer to make up his mind, sure as she was that Granger and all of Harry's other little friends would be all over the manor before long, and then step in. Though, even if nothing came of that pair, she had noticed her little boy sending the youngest Weasley a double look as they all piled off the train. The child had been dressed in less than was proper for a girl her age, true, so maybe he had absorbed all those lessons about propriety. Either way she had time enough to plan.

"So, if I'm safe from him, why do I have to leave?"

And then her husband was furious, and Narcissa had just enough time to hiss him a warning before he exploded, though with admittedly more controlled than he might have been had she not.

"Silly child! Do these people not hurt you? Lock you out of doors and treat you like a house elf? When was the last time you've had a proper meal in this place? Do you truly think being barred from family activities and yelled at is proper family behavior?"

But we're not a family!" Harry erupted from his seat in a truly impressive display of temper. Merlin save her, but she was doomed to live with three explosive tempers. "We're not family. They're not mine and I'm not theirs. I'm a freak and a burden they've been stuck with since I got dumped here. They don't want me, they never have and they never will!"

"I want you."

In the silence that followed there seemed to be a shift in the air, in the very magic around them. Narcissi looked between the two, one shocked child, green eyes wide and so very _full of emotions, the other a towering adult gazing gently down at the child and, sentimental soul that she was, felt her heart swell._

"_What?" Harry's voice was more of a croak, but he hardly noticed. He couldn't have heard what he thought he had…_

"_I want you." The repetition did nothing for the child's confusion. "I want you, my wife, Narcissa wants you. We want to care for you, take you away from this place, give you a home. Will you accept that?"_

_Harry shook his head, lost. "But…Draco hates me."_

"_Draco has complained, on more than one occasion, about your lack of proper clothing, deplorable height and appetite and your rather emaciated appearance at the beginning of each new term. I believe he views your rivalry as some sort of competition, though Merlin only knows how he's thought of that, but he does not hate you."_

_Harry floundered, grasping at straws and fighting back tears. "But…Sirius…"_

"_Is a convicted -"_

"_He's innocent!"_

"_As I well know. However, he is still on the run from the law. And even if he had been cleared and pardoned, Black has spent thirteen years in Azkaban. I would not, and neither would any self-respecting Child Services official, trust him to raise a child. Frankly, it is a miracle he possesses any semblance of sanity, and only a mind healer can properly assess his mental health." The child looked positively mutinous then, and Lucius softened. "However, I would never dream to keep one of my sons away from his godfather, and so Sirius Black will be informed of your change in situation and offered rooms in our home."_

_Whether it was the reference to his person as Malfoy's son or the beyond generous offer for Sirius that stole his voice, Harry was unable to speak. The Malfoy's had managed to answer all his questions, had actually answered all his questions, and while the decision really wasn't up to him, he didn't feel trapped. As a matter of fact, he realized the freedom they were granting him, and found himself grateful. _

_Under the Malfoy's protection Dumbledore couldn't reach him. He'd realized in the past few weeks that Dumbledore had been setting him up every year he was at school. He didn't like they implications that realization left him with, so the very real sanctuary the Malfoy's interference provided was a blessing. _

_And he loved the Weasley's, he did, but he couldn't deny he'd held himself back for them. He'd wanted new clothes and other things and besides the fact that the Dursley's would have destroyed anything he'd bought, he hadn't been comfortable spending or even mentioning his money when he knew they barely make their ends meet. And after he'd offered to help pay for some stuff that one time and been rebuffed, he'd felt too awkward to try again. Not to mention Ron's soreness over money on the whole._

_And speaking of Ron, he'd been so caught up in keeping the boy as a friend that he'd consciously toned himself down. He'd been excited to get out from under Dudley's dumb thumb and do his best at Hogwarts, but after those first few weeks and Ron's sore attitude over 'know-it-alls' he'd held back, only doing the bare minimum and using the older boy as a gauge. And Hermione, bless her, wanted him to do better, but he knew how much better he could do and after watching her go crazy whenever someone beat her out of the top spot in any class, Harry'd contented himself with accepting her help and keeping the peace between the three of them, as having friends, two whole friends to himself, was more important than doing his best and being comfortable. He'd done it for years before, hadn't he?_

_But now he could wear what he wanted and study all he wanted and do his very best in everything and no one would blame him, everyone would just think the Malfoy's were really strict about what they expected and that he was trying to save his own skin. _

_That was if they even bothered to talk to him once they found out, anyway…_

_Speaking of which…_

" _I can't see you joining the Light side, sir." He shot Mrs. Malfoy a nervous look, but figured he could get away with his statement."_

_The man smirked. "I have not."_

"_And you've left Voldemort? He's a halfblood, you know?"_

_The man's eyes widened. "No, I did not know. If I had not already decided to cut all ties with him, I surely would now. You have proof, I assume." Harry nodded once, and Lucius responded in kind. "Well, Mr. Potter?"_

_The brat peered at him for a moment, then smirked. "Don't you mean 'Malfoy'?"_

_Lucius smirked. The brat was cheeky, that was sure. "In about a week, and Potter, Malfoy, to be more accurate."_

"_Mustn't let the people forget who I am, now, must we?"_

"_No we must not."_

_And suddenly the smirking, commiserating atmosphere was gone. Lucius was actually impressed the boy understood the reasoning behind his name, and felt a rather guilty pang at the separation, however slight, the name would cause in their little family. Harry wearily sighed, looking around the room._

"_Can we leave? Only, my things are all locked up…"_

_With a few flicks of her delicate wrist, Narcissa, eyes glittering like fine jewels in her husband's direction, had Harry's things floating into the room. Hedwig hooted dolefully from her cage in the procession and Harry, almost faint with relief, ensnared bird and cage in a hug Lucius knew would leave bruises. _

_Finally the procession ceased, all the child's possessions shrunk and stored in pockets, and Hedwig held in Harry's iron grip. After a quick, silent conversation with his wife, Lucius stepped forward, taking the boy's arm in a secure, but gentle grip._

"_We will apparate." Harry nodded, swallowing hard and staring at the floor. "In one…two…three…"_

_There was a twisting, squeezing sensation like he was being sucked through a straw and then a sharp spasm of pain right before a glimpse of bright white filled his vision and the world went black._


	4. Complications

"Black, get off of him." There was a high pitched whine and then a snuffling at his neck. Harry knew he should wake up, wasn't really sure how he had fallen asleep, but he knew he should. Something important was happening. But he was so tired, so very tired. The voice, the familiar one, he would understand, wouldn't he?

_Friday evening, 6:15pm, June 27__th__, 1995_

There was something, a rather large, hairy something, pressed up against his side. It was warm, almost too warm, and breathing on his ear. Harry shifted, trying to wriggle away, and suddenly there was a deafening bark in his ear and then moist snuffling along his neck and chin. He tried to tell the great dog to get _off_, but all than came out was a feeble groan, and Sirius attacked him with more fervor, licking his entire face and shaking the bed with the force of his tail-wagging.

There was the slam of a door somewhere past his feet and then the sound of something sizzling before the dog above him gave a rather pained yelp, jostling the bed as he moved before settling on Harry's other side, pushing his nose, Harry thought, under his arm, whimpering.

"You infuriating, ill-bred nuisance!" That was Narcissa, Harry realized, and she sounded absolutely furious. "I have _told_ you there is to be no nonsense in Harry's room! This child needs his rest! If you – "

"Narcissa, darling, calm down." Lucius' voice came from somewhere to the left of his head, rather near if the sound of moving paper was any indication. "The child is waking up. You can't expect him to control himself."

Said mongrel whined again in agreement, and then there were hands on him, one on his forehead, brushing his hair back and the other on his chest and Harry dearly wanted to squirm away from this warm, comforting scenario of parents at his bedside and fussing over his rest but he _couldn't move_, couldn't talk, couldn't do anything than weakly move a shoulder.

He could smell though. The room was scented like some rich type of wood he'd smelt only once, and that was overlaid by some type of flowery fragrance he thought he might have smelt on Narcissa and something than smelt like leather but not that was definitely Lucius Malfoy, and spicy dog, which he'd know anywhere as Sirius. It was _weird_, knowing that his godfather was in the house of a known death eater because said death eater had decided that adopting him was a good thing. Harry didn't know how to handle it.

"Harry, child?"

He wanted to answer her, if only to say he was fine and slip away from her touch – she was not his _mother_ – Harry couldn't. He tried again, to speak, to shake himself, something, but nothing happened beyond a faint whimper.

"Lucius?"

Next to him the bed moved, and soon there was another hand on his head, this one he knew, large and calloused and cool, as if the man would never really regain his proper body temperature. "Pup? Can you hear me?"

Harry tried, screaming in his head but nothing came out but a faint whimper, the only sound in the room, and a tear sliding across his face. Sirius swore above his head and Lucius began barking orders, orders Harry struggled to hear over the racing of his heartbeat in his ears.

"Narcissa, fetch Severus this instant. Black, the elder Weasleys, now."

"Off your bloody rocker, you are. I'm not leaving him."

"You will do as I say, Black, or there will be Dementors in your future." There was a moment of Absolute silence, in which Harry could clearly hear the fire crackling across the room, before Sirius' hands slipped from his head, and the man walked across the room and then out the door.

Harry was more confused than angry, or as confused as the molasses coating his mind would allow him to be. Why did the man need Mr. and Mrs. Weasley? Was he dying or something?

And then there was a smooth, cool hand against his cheek, and Harry had something else to focus on.

"Child?"

He tried to say something, even if it was just a mumble of words but it didn't come out as he had intended, starting somewhere near his stomach and ending near the middle of his throat. More tears leaked out of his eyes and Harry settled for pressing his face into the hand pressed against his cheek.

"Are you in pain, child?"

Was he? He couldn't be sure. Everything felt mostly heavy and sort of incased in fog, if that made sense.

But how was he to tell him that? Could the man read minds? He didn't know, or know how to find out anyway. And to make things worse, his head was beginning to pound, a sharp, incessant ache behind his closed eyes.

The soft sound of fabric sliding against the floor cut off his meandering thought, and then Lucius was speaking, and Harry was shocked to hear the taut _worry_ in the man's voice.

"Don't just stand there, Severus, do something. The child is obviously conscious, but unable to move or speak. Something has somehow occurred that Narcissa and I did not anticipate. "

A pause, and then Harry heard his potions professor use a tone he had never heard before. "Lucius that is Harry Potter."

"Malfoy, actually, as of late yesterday evening. And I know quite well who he is, Severus. I want you to tell me what is _wrong_ with him. Some fatigue is to be expected due to the state we found him in, but he's slept for two days and now this!"

There was a moment of tense silence in which Harry _knew_ the men were staring hard at each other, before Lucius spoke once more.

"You are a licensed Healer, are you not?"

A pause, and harry wondered if the professor was going to even bother answering. "I am."

Harry felt Lucius' body shift, the man probably leaning forward in order to look more menacing. "Then wrench your rather plebian mind away from matters beyond your comprehension and help. My. _Son_."

Harry's mind buzzed at that. The man had said it before, but now he'd said it aloud, to someone he knew, someone who knew him, a contemporary, and if harry didn't know any better then he'd think the man meant Draco (who wasn't here, curious…) but Mr. Malfoy had definitely meant him, and something hot and tight and raging crept into his chest and his eyes stung behind their lids and that hand was _still pressed to his cheek_, but before Harry became completely undone by something he didn't understand Snape moved, robes trailing along the floor and suddenly there was a surprisingly warm hand against his forehead.

"No fever, which is good. No infection then." Fingers poked and prodded at him every which way and soon Harry really did feel like some type of experiment, especially with Snape's murmuring overhead. He didn't realize he wasn't wearing a shirt until Snape started kneading and poking around his ribs and abdomen, checking for "obtrusive cellular masses, a nasty side effect of malnutrition in magical children, a concern we obviously should have, since I can count these ribs."

"There is nothing physically wrong with him that I can tell, nothing that should cause this level of fatigue at least," Snape said at length. Harry had been initially relieved when the man's hands had finally left his body, but a tingle of fear crept into him then. If Snape didn't know what was wrong with him, did that mean he'd be like this forever? "I suppose it is too much to hope that I can convince you that the boy is faking?"

A deep growl sounded near his head and Harry's body gave an involuntary twitch; he hadn't realized Sirius had come back. He wanted to tell Snape just where he could stick his opinions, but couldn't get his mouth to work.

Thankfully, Narcissa took over. "In your expert opinion, Severus, bias _aside_, what do you think could be wrong?"

"Honestly, I cannot say. It could be any number of things, a muggle illness reacting to the presence of his magic, Imperius, complete mental shutdown due to the ploy I find myself witness to – "

"Severus, I have _told_ you – "

"Indeed. You mentioned finding him in a 'state'?"

Harry could practically feel Lucius's glare above him, and internally smirked. At least until the man started speaking.

"We found him tending a Muggle garden, the muggle way. He had no water, save that which he gave the plants, and I do not believe those despicable muggles he lived with had fed him, likely for days."

"He was covered in bruises as well. Most of them started to heal as soon as he collapsed, but the others – "

"The larger, uglier ones, mind you – "

"Took longer. The last of them faded just yesterday morning."

"It does not take much, Severus, to assume, correctly, I believe, that this is a common occurrence, which means that those _muggles_ have damaged my son, a wizarding child. If I had – "

"Yes, yes. He became unconscious how?"

Lucius glowered. "We apparated him into the Manor. It was quickest."

"Not to mention harder to trace."

"Perhaps."

Severus sighed, the sound of his robes brushing against each other filling the room. "It seems then, that we have our answer." And then his voice turned cold. "You _idiots_! You've practically _drained_ his magical core!"

'Preposterous!"

"Oh Harry!"

Lucius closed his eyes, unable to grasp the entirety of the situation, the Weasley matriarch's sobs notwithstanding. He expected nothing less from her, she who had been the mother his son had never had.

"Surely you're mistaken, Severus." Narcissa was obviously shaken, her skin nearly translucent, her lips white. "To drain a magical core takes extraordinary feats of magic. How - ?"

"I assure you, Lady Malfoy, that I am not. You both knew he had been healing and sustaining himself, probably unconsciously, maybe for weeks, and then you drag him through the most draining form of magical transportation. _Idiots_. Instead of allowing the boy to recuperate, you conspire to make him a squib, completing a magical adoption so soon after his collapse. The magical processing renders fully healthy children weak for days, sometimes _weeks_ – "

"I thought he was just tired. The Dark lord has been interrupting his sleep, the little that he gets, with more dreams. I thought that coupled with the physical labour he'd been forced to complete, I never suspected the adoption and the Heir Selection – "

"Heir Selection?" Snape's voice was deadly quiet, and harry felt chills run up his spine.

"Yeah, Snape." Sirius sounded very, very small and chastised. "I changed my will. The Blacks have always been well, strange, so there's this magical process where the House chooses it's Heir, but only a lot more complicated and – "

"You allowed a semi-sentient statute to meddle with a child's magic _days_ after he collapsed from magical exhaustion?" There was dead silence for exactly three seconds before Severus voice pitched into Molly Weasley decibels, the man in full healer mode. "Do you people even think? How the hell did you manage to gain custody of a child, _retain_ custody of a child? Of all the completely life-threatening, dangerous – Lucius, you've erased all my doubt. Obviously you plan to weaken him and then turn him over to the dark lord or just kill him yourself. Either way, I congratulate you."

"No – "

"Every death eater should bow to your cunning and sadistic determination. Even the dark Lord couldn't do what you've done, rendering the boy so helpless – "

"Expulso."

"Duro."

"Not over my godson you idiots! Protego!"

"Lucius, control yourself!"

"Expelliarmus Duo. Incarcerous Dou!"

As rather muggle-looking cords wound their way around his torso, Lucius wrenched his furious gaze from the younger Slytherin, who gave as good as he got, glare wise, to see who had dared cast at him in his own house.

Arthur Weasley. Arthur Weasley stood at the foot of Harry's bed, wand held loosely to his side as if he hadn't just disarmed and bound two of the most powerful wizards in a generation.

Expect the man actually had, casting two 'duo' spells, and didn't that call for a significant amount of power? He'd been raised to know that the Weasleys magic was a weak as their pocketbooks, expect where it applied to procreation, but how then had Arthur done it?

"You two should be ashamed of yourselves," the man said quietly. "Lying between you is a sick child who needs at the very least a calm environment in which to heal, not two adults throwing spells over his head like hormonal teenagers."

"How dare you refer to me as such, you – "

"I call them as I see them, Lucius."

"I should hex your – "

"His scar is bleeding."

"What?" Lucius' eyes flew to his young friend before landing on the child lying on the bed. Sure enough, there was a thick trail of blood sluicing down the small pale face. Lucius hissed, struggling with his bonds, even as Molly and Narcissa rushed to mop of the mess. "Severus, what is the meaning of this? Arthur, release me."

The cords around him dropped to the floor before disappearing, but Lucius had already leaned over the Potter child around his wife, impatiently motioning with his hands for the younger Slytherin to explain, and quickly.

"I have heard rumors this past year, that the child's scar bled when in contact whether physical or astral, with the Dark Lord."

"You mean he could be inside my child _right now_?" Lucius' voice was chilled.

"I am not certain whether possession is feasible over distances such as the one between you and the lord's last known address, however, the possibility is unlikely." The man had backed away from the bed a few feet, calmly watching the drama before him. "The child has been known to feel the dark lords more pronounced emotions; perhaps he is simply extremely angry?"

"But we would feel it as well, no doubt. Linky!"

He little elf popped into being with a shattering snap, howling with tears and bashing itself in the head with a pan. Lucius snarled in disgust.

"I demand you _desist_ this behavior at once! What has gotten into you, foolish elf?"

"Bad wizard man is hurting little master and Lord Master said not to disturb him and Linky is not wanting to be a bad elf but little master is screaming! Screaming and Linky is wanting – "

"Enough! Back to your duties." Before the little elf had popped away Lucius was striding towards the door. "All of you stay here. Weasley, if he tries to get off that bed, _stun him_."

And then Lucius swept from the room, frightened and worried and hoping he could save his son.

Both of them.


	5. Confrontations

**Authors Note:** Ok, so this chapter is fairly short. You will begin to notice here that I don't or won't go into intense play-by-play magic explanations in this fic, so bear with me darlings. Also, there is no Harry POV in this one, because…well, I dunno, it just didn't work out. BUT, you get some bonding. Bonding is good, yes? There will also be only three POV's in this fic, that of the Malfoy parents and harry, sorry. That's very unlikely to change. I know I had a review that questioned the probability of Harry so blithely accepting the Malfoy's adoption of him and them giving him his name, and I've got a few things to say to that. Erm…

Harry in this fic has realized the political position he has and that the Malfoys (Lucius, at least) are angling for. This is different than canon, where Harry doesn't know much at all about his status.

At least in this fic, Harry is fifteen, yes, but still a child, who has lived with abuse and general feelings of unwanted-ness. When faced with a pair of adults who actually treat him decently, no matter their past history, I see him as being willing, even unconsciously, to soak it up.

Harry also realizes the rather isolated position Dumbledore has maneuvered him into. Only a little, really, but he'll discover more of that as we go on. Hand in hand with that, we have his realization, as stated, of how much sheer _freedom _The Malfoys have granted him. Seriously, think about it. He's just beginning to realize that Dumbledore's been playing him for a fool, setting him up every year and whatnot, never mind that the old man keeps sending back to the Dursley's, which is incentive all on its own, and that other than Ron and the Weasleys, who, though very Muggle-friendly are still very closed-minded and inclusive, and Hermione, Harry really doesn't have any friends. Not close friends. People who will follow him because they believe in what he 'stands' for and his cause as Dumbledore's figurehead, but people he can rely on at the drop of a hat, people he can tell his secrets to, not really. How different would canon have been if harry were allowed to spend time with Neville more, or Seamus and Dean or even Justin or Ernie or Ginny and Lavender? I'm not bashing the good lady JK's work 'cuz God knows I love it, I'm just saying. There's a world of thought here.

But yeah. That was a rather long Author's note. Sorry about that. Enjoy your chapter, yes?

The screams met him at the door.

Lucius slid to a stop outside the ornate door to his study, mind frantically trying to arrange itself in a manner befitting his waiting audience, while mentally cursing both his late father and his own youthful arrogance, factors that had brought him to the ungraceful position he now held in life. It had taken him precious seconds to descend the private staircase that led to his personal study, after he'd thrown up him most desperate Cloaking Ward in an attempt to keep his family's one hope hidden for just a little bit longer, seconds that his firstborn was obviously paying for.

There was a sudden hush of silence and he felt his heart freeze, his lifeblood run cold in his veins. Panic griped his throat in a vice grip and in another moment he surged forward, all thoughts of propriety and cunning plots flown from his mind, intent on doing murderous things to the self-styled dark lord. With the slightest flick of his wrist the door exploded inwards, there was a nasty, nasty curse at the tip of his lips, wand glowing a sickly yellow before Draco's screams once again penetrated his mind.

The dark lord was smiling at him.

"You intend to do me harm, Lucius?" With the slightest dip of his wrist the dark lord released the sweaty, whimpering teen from his curse, turning his attention to the elder blonde. "You wish to kill me?"

"Neither, my lord." Lucius wasn't naïve to think that the serpentine wizard could not tell he spoke through clenched teeth, disgust and repulsion dripping from every syllable that forced its way through. With more willpower than he knew he had, Lucius dispersed the magic, hard and pulsating, through his core, lest he dig himself a deeper hole. They had been playing this game, he and Voldemort, for years, the constant back and forth familiar to them both, simultaneously waiting on eggshells for Tom 's patience to snap. "I merely hoped to instill some measure of..._reason_ in you, my liege."

"Oh?" That smile was deadly. Lucius felt the hair's on the back of his neck tingle. "How so? Unless my knowledge is incorrect, that spell, had I allowed it to affect my person, would have boiled the blood in my veins, killing me in minutes, if not seconds, which I highly doubt. You never were the powerful wizard your father was, child." Lucius frowned, trying to keep the maniac in sight. When had they begun circling each other? Behind his impassive facade, Lucius was both furious and mildly confused. It seemed the dark lord had come with a mission in mind, and the thought that either he would die today, in his not-so-secret study or become a free fugitive and that it all rested on he and his wand scared him in a way Lucius did not know was possible.

"He cannot serve you if he is damaged, your grace." '_Get out of my house!' Expulso Corporis. Incendio Maximus Duo. Bombarda. _ Spells to hurt, rip, kill flew through his head and Lucius' only concern was that Draco had somehow found his way out of the room; the brat certainly k new enough ways _in_.

"Ah, but Lucius, you never planned on him serving me at all, did you?"

Lucius gave a thin smile, tilting his head ever so slightly forward in a mock bow. So it was time, then. "Truthfully, no."

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Confringo! Bombarda Maxima!" Lucius slid out of the way of the dark curse, the green light setting the door to the room on fire. Voldemort shifted, an aborted half-turn before his face slipped into an ugly sneer; the Anti-Apparition wards were up and wouldn't let him escape. The Floo wouldn't work for the wizard either, if he tried and Lucius felt equally smug and terrified. While the Dark Lord couldn't escape, he'd also trapped his family. A sickly blue spell flew at him and he summoned his strongest shield, casting his own retaliatory spell before the bright light had even dissipated against his shield.

And his house worked with him. One did not attack a snake in its own nest. The stone floor beneath Voldemort's feet suddenly slicked over with oil, a panel of sharp pikes set itself into the wall directly behind the stumbling man. Lucius fired blasting curses in that general direction, and though Voldemort's shield was good, he could not deflect them all. Twice a spell slipped through and slammed into the man's body, the first slamming one shoulder into an eager pike and the second blowing off part of the man's foot.

A wave of fire washed over him, and Lucius swore. He hadn't had time to cast a shield spell, so his protection spells had taken the brunt of that spell. They probably couldn't take another hit, much to his annoyance. With hurried movements he cast a dampening spell on the edge of his sleeve before throwing up a sheet of stone. Something large and heavy crashed into it, cracking the stone in front of him and before Voldemort could try again Lucius sent all the pieces blasting back at him.

And then the dark lord was snarling. "You will die, fool! You and all your house will crumble beneath my feet like the dust you are!"

Lucius stared at the twisted face before him, truly looked at the man he had mistakenly devoted most of his adult life to, and sneered. "If so, thief, it will only be after you."

And with a muttered word and the blood spilling freely from his suddenly wounded hand, Lucius sank into a tomb under his study, intent to rid the man from his body and family once and for all.

There was a ritual he had been studying, one he'd modified from an existing exorcism, designed to rip the 'dark lord's' hold on his magic from him forever, if he did it right. Lucius had showed no one else, had spent hours upon hours scraping the farthest recesses of his magical knowledge and the combined knowledge of his library, scrutinizing and analyzing every single aspect till it seemed theoretically sound in every possible way save the execution.

Which was where he stood now.

Ignoring the danger of leaving his foe so unaccountably free to wander in his domain Lucius sank to his knees, instantly seeking out the pulsating, poisonous connection linking him to the Dark Lord. Draco had been all of eight years old when Lucius had discovered that the Dark mark was leeching his magic, the small child unusually sensitive to the ebb and flow of magic around him, alerting the man of his magic 'going out'. Lucius honed in on that link, ignoring every dictate of magic that demanded he be calm, because he could not be, calm was a state of completely foreign to him at that moment that it had better be Muggle, something he may just might become.

With a resolve both deadly firm and tenuous he latched onto the foreign signature mingling with his, a putrid type of red wrapped around a brilliantly green channel of power, and _pushed_, not caring if his magic went out with it, chanting the words he had agonized over and over under his breath, imagining the sickening sight being siphoned into a spiraling vortex _away_ from him, not caring if his magic went away from it, if that was what it took to keep the mad man away from Draco, away from Harry and Narcissa and Severus and the family they _would_ one day make and have and add to. It was like moving mercury through an ice block, the substance hard and unyielding and resisting every step of the way, but the syllables of his incantation chipped away at it little by little, his skin covered in sweat and blood and his mind split in two, one half on the ritual and the other filled with the awareness of his house, the entity's 'voice' providing an endless stream of information on Voldemort's progress through the house, hampered as it was by the sentient's interruptions and the house elves frantic attempt to keep the man out. It seemed the more he pushed his magic and that of the parasite's away, the louder the house's voice became, a puzzle he would think on later, when he had the brainpower to spare, and so he focused on the rhythm the chant had fallen into, instantly noticing that the struggle to free himself from Voldemort's grasp had eased slightly.

And while the thief's magic grew with Lucius', it also seemed to slow him down, causing him to pause for long moments on his trek upstairs. Lucius hoped each sweat-inducing shove of his magic caused the man an eternity of agony and so focused on doing just that, pouring all of his energy into shoving each and every spark of the other out till suddenly, like a great mental shudder, the link was gone, his core only a dim green stone far, far below it seemed and he found himself face-down on the gritty floor of his sinkhole, the house-voice in his head screaming that the villain had been _expelled_, practically crowing with triumph and Lucius found strength to muster a smile, though his inside felt cold and empty and _wrong_, until feeling kicked in, every inch of his a throbbing mass of _Sweet Merlin, preserve me_ and then a house elf was beside him, and the world went black.

Better Days Better Days Better Days

When he awoke he was in the infirmary.

He lay strapped to a bed, his mind suddenly flooded with a series of fragmented shapes and feelings that blended together to form something like '_Good morning, Lord Malfoy_', there was a warm, bony body pressed up against his side, a deep, low voice was murmuring at or to something over to his left and Narcissa was in a tizz. He could tell by the complete lack of her voice in the room, and by the rustle of her many skirts against the carpet. She was either pacing, or fussing over their youngest son

The bony body pressed against him was no doubt Draco, and Lucius could tell by the slow, even breaths puffing against his chest that the boy had been doused within an inch of his life by the resident potions master and was well on the way to perfectly healed, if not already there. He could also tell the child was deep asleep, something he found himself grateful for; he would not have wished both he and his mother on his worst enemy, unless it was Voldemort, and then man was unarmed and defenseless, which meant dead, and then he wouldn't want his family anywhere near that dead man's corpse, in case there was some inherent curse there, or a sliver of his putrid soul waiting to latch onto the nearest living….

Lucius' body lurched into an upright position, eyes wide and unseeing until they settled in a pair of slightly frightened green eyes on the far side of the room. "Horcrux."

Hands on his shoulder he had not noticed were restraining him on the bed suddenly froze and tightened, moving to cup his face and turn his resisting head to meet a pair of deep onyx eyes. "Lucius, do you know where you are?"

Said Malfoy glared, and very barely refrained from swearing. "In the infirmary of my house, you imbecile. I am quite aware of where I am and what I just said. What I am not aware of is a method to _fix_ it."

Severus peered at him from behind silky strands of inky black hair and Lucius squashed the irrational urge to tie the man down and _cut_ it. "You have just uttered a word only found in the deepest and darkest of Dark Arts references while looking at the newest addition to your family. Forgive me in professing some doubt in your cognizance."

"I am quite aware of what I said, Severus. Certain pieces of trivia have suddenly fallen into place. If you will cease this overt display of your startling unintelligence then perhaps you might reach the same conclusion yourself." Lucius was in no mood to entertain any such doubts in his faculties. His house was rather loudly asking permission to relocate the man's suite of rooms in the draftiest dungeon on property for his audacity, and he did not need any additional reason to acquiesce.

Soon, though, the light of realization lit the dark eyes before him, and the man stood, releasing his face, gazing at the small, green-eyes child across the room and merely uttered a single "Ah." Lucius wanted to punch him, but that was Muggle and barbaric. He'd settle for a curse, if he could manage it.

"You cannot."

Lucius turned surprised eyes to his friend, who stood in front of him, wand out and seemingly reading something in the air between them he could not see. "Are you reading my mind?"

"I have no need to. I know just how it works." Their eyes connected for a moment, before breaking contact, and Lucius was never so grateful that he'd befriended the taciturn man before him in his life.

Severus ended whatever spell it was that had occupied his time, and then fixed him with a sharp look. "Whatever you did to force the Dark Lord from your home was both lifethreatening and stupid, even more so than your usual because you refused to bring it to the attention of others who could have helped you. As a result, your magical core is functioning at a bare minimum, you are on par with the weakest squibs. Congratulations." 

"Thank you. That means my exorcism worked as I expected." There was a tugging on his shoulders, and Lucius relaxed into the softness of his wife, who had climbed up behind him and was most insistent that he _rest_. Narcissa was a quiet worrier, preferring to stew and fume in silence and then torture one with cuddles and a lack of personal space until she was assured that one would not disappear in a puff of smoke. He sighed, realizing that she would be at her wits end with _three_ of them to worry over, and that sleeping for the next few days would be a long off destination. Her arms curled around his shoulders even as Draco shuffled _ever_ closer Merlin was the child trying to get _into _his skin, and then his eyes traveled over to the other bed in the room where his newest, youngest son was very determinedly staring at his hands and he gave his closest friend a _look_. Severus rolled his eyes, but with a flick of his wrist Lucius' bed widened to nearly double the size, and with another there was a slightly muffled yelp of surprise before Harry was floated over to them.

The child, once settled on the mattress, predictably tried to settle himself as far away from them as possible, but Narcissa was having none of that, and somehow managed to smush the two boys together between them, a feat Lucius swear she owed to _magic_, since his head was still resting against her shoulder. After a few minutes Harry's tense frame relaxed just enough so that the child wasn't a rigid lump of boy but it was a full two hours before the child even began to nod off, Severs awful potions and fearsome glare notwithstanding.

Finally, after three hours and what felt like an entire millennia to the blonde man, the children and Narcissa were asleep, and Severus voiced his question.

"Exorcism?"

Lucius nodded as much as he could, peering down at the messy hair next to him. "The dark wizard known as Lord Voldemort is nothing more than a spirit leeching the life of his followers." He met puzzled black eyes. "I mean that literally."

"How so?"

'The dark mark." 

"Impossible. The dark mark is little more than a protean charm enhanced to aid apparition –"

"What protean charms do you know are capable of causing varying levels of pain based on the caster's _emotions_? Capable of siphoning off life and magic from its bearers?"

"Siphoning off _magic_?" Severus' eyes were wide and conflicted. Lucius felt a twinge of sympathy for his friend, for as steeped in the dark arts as the younger had once been, he was still at times painfully innocent.

"That is the source of his vaunted magical strength. While I do not doubt that in his prime he was as cunning and brilliant as the stories have made him out to be, and his control to this day is something to be admired, the sheer magnitude of his pith is due directly to the strength and number of his followers." He gazed at the bowed head, the absolute still figure next to the bed, and sighed. "We have made a grave error, my friend."

When Severus next spoke, his voice was thick. "Teach me this ritual."

Lucius smiled, grasping Severus' nearest hand in a rare show of affection. "Let us see how long it takes for my core to regenerate first, and then we shall teach it to as many that require it."

"It will take you months, Lucius, four at the very least. You will be unable to cast the simplest of spells –"

"The prepare them. We will make the discoveries together." He patted the disgruntled man's hand. "It is time you go to bed, little Snape."

Severus scowled. "I have three patients to monitor."

"Quite true. However, one rather grumpy healer once gave me a brilliant piece of advice. He said if you do not want to go insane by the end of the week, sleep when your brat does and very lightly'."

"This is hardly the same thing."

"True, but do you really want to be awake in the house all by yourself without me awake to keep the elves from tormenting you?"

Severus' eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't."

"No, I wouldn't." Lucius smiled. "But they do so enjoy your irate outbursts. If the house is correct, and I think he is, there is a running competition to see who can cause the first one. I do not advise you to leave this room."

The look on Severus' face was ugly as he glared around the room, spending an extra moment or two in all the dark corners, but in the end he acquiesced, and conjured another bed. The room was silent in ten minutes.

The alarm sounded in twelve.


	6. Revelations

Severus was the first out of bed, wand in hand even as he instructed Lucius to call a house elf to guard them all.

Lucius blinked heavy eyes and resisted the urge to glare at his younger friend. Of course he would summon a house elf, but not for the reasons the man thought. "Elf."

A small being popped into view, wringing its long-fingered hands in agitation and Lucius leveled it with a glare, hoping that the house, which was sending him all sorts of conflicting information, would take the hint and shut up. "What is the situation?"

"There is being a little girl on the grounds, headed for the door. And a woman, Muggle woman, holding onto the child and the woman is confused by the wards but won't let go of the child."

Lucius sighed, tired all over again because this was _odd_, a random child leading a muggle woman onto his grounds. Hadn't they gotten the memo? Human sacrifices were terribly last year and Lucius was a man of _fashion_, if nothing else. He freed himself from Narcissa's grip, earning a glare in doing so and eased himself off the raised mattress.

"Lucius, do not presume to flout my directives. Return to bed, this should be easy enough to handle."

"And let you have all the fun? Nonsense." He slipped a light robe hovering near his arm over his shoulders and stepped into a pair of suddenly-there slippers. "The house will never let you open the front door, which is where they are headed, if the racket the mansion is making in my head is any indication."

He supposed the information wasn't contradictory as he'd first assumed. But one did not ever expect a child to set off centuries old alarms, did one? And he hadn't expected to have to deal with a Muggle either. Clearly his life had taken a sharp turn for the weird.

Out on the stairs Severus insisted on shadowing him, one arm hovering an inch away from his free arm lest he slip. Lucius wished the man would stop, since all the hovering did was make him feel as if he _would_ drop. He knew these stairs, had grown up on these stairs, and could probably navigate them in his sleep. Severus' worry was unfounded.

Or at least he thought it was till he reached the bottom of the stairs and felt as if he'd been battling a dragon with nothing but an oversized pillow. He swayed, and Severus was there to catch him, and Lucius leaned against his shoulder till a chair materialized on his other side.

"Stubborn bastard," was murmured near his ear but Lucius pretended he couldn't hear him, since it would have taken more energy than he had at the moment to retort.

Severus eased him into the chair and then the thing moved, causing a slight lurch in his stomach but after the initial surprise Lucius was fine. And when a restorative draft was pressed against his nose he took it with a bare spate of annoyance. Severus was efficient, if nothing else.

When the younger man was satisfied that he would not pass out, and the House was done filling his head with its concern, they moved on, nearing the grand oak front doors. He had always been a man of stature, yes, but Lucius had never really seen fit to use these doors for anything other than ceremonial events or grand standing. Who even used doors anymore anyway, when there were perfectly acceptable Floo and Apparition rooms available in all the houses he cared to visit. Still, the ornately carved oak doors were imposing, and he couldn't resist a tiny thrill of pride that ran through him as they approached.

The child was sobbing. He wasn't sure if the sound was magnified by the arched alcove the door sat in or if the House was augmenting his senses with its own, but the little girl's crying filled his ears more loudly than it should, considering the width of the door, and Lucius felt himself grow ever more curious. He double checked his escort, seeing Severus was far more suspicious of this 'threat' than he was, then gestured for the House to open the doors.

He was not expecting what he saw.

A small child, barely a day over seven years old, long thick hair matted and tangled down her frail back, filthy skin indicative of mixed heritage and a complete lack of care in all her borne days. She wore little more than rags, some knotted and tied together to provide only the bare minimum of coverage to her thin form. The woman behind her looked little better, though that could be due to the madness of trekking through three acres of concealment, Notice-Me-Not and Muggle-repelling wards. It was a wonder the woman was even standing. The child stood, large, pitch black eyes staring desperately at them, thin, shaking hands clamped against her mouth to muffle her sobs. The woman spun on the spot, muttering under her breath about chores he had meant to do and things she was supposed to be doing and rambling at invisible people and at times shouting at nothing in particular. Lucius sneered. If the woman's grip on the child's hair didn't pain her enough to prompt tears then her mother's, he could tell by her coloring, deranged antics certainly would.

He did not miss his companion going stiff as a board, the flare of Severus' magic beside him as bright as physically uncomfortable as standing too close to a roaring blaze. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Severus shifted, first staring at the madwoman and then the child, watched as his grip on his magic weakened and the power blazed once again before he tamped it back down. Severus knew this woman, a fact proved right when the potions master stepped forward, casting mind-clearing charms and counter-spells to the Malfoy ward work. Lucius did not miss, either, that the man's cloak seemed to have migrated of its own accord from his broad back to that of the small child shivering on the step.

The moment the spells left the woman's mind was greatly apparent; she took half a second to look around, gather her bearings and then she launched herself at Severus, while Lucius watched with raised eyebrows. Severus caught her by the throat though, and Lucius found himself wrinkling his nose at the barbaric behavior. "Severus, do control yourself."

"You will mind yourself in my presence, swine." Severus ignored him, though Lucius wasn't sure the man could hear him anyway. The child had inched away from her mother ( a relation he was seriously starting to doubt) and Severus, bringing herself closer to Lucius' own side. She looked patently terrified, and Lucius felt his heart constrict. But Severus was talking again.

"You have but three minutes to explain, before I blast you back to the pits of hell you crawled out of."

The woman glared at him mavolently, and Lucius was almost impressed; she could give the dark Lord lessons. "I've come to give your what is yours, you oily piece of shit," she spat. "Hard as hell to track you down, but I managed."

"I made it quite clear that everything was to be yours, did I not. There is nothing you could possibly have to give me."

"You take your shit, or I kill her. I don't want her, never have, the disgusting, mewling freak!"

A terrible flicker of something shifted past his eyes, and Lucius feared for the woman's life. "Her?"

"The bitch. Behind you." The man didn't turn to see the child, something that seemed to infuriate the woman more. "Don't want her either, do you? The good for nothing – "

Severus shook her then, and the child whimpered. Lucius sent a plea to the house, which prompted an elf to cast a charm over the girl. Lucius couldn't tell what it did, but the child looked less likely to burst into tears at any moment. Seeing her mother treated in such a fashion couldn't help, he considered.

"Hildrea, I swear, I will kill you. You said there was no chance – "

"I lied." She spat in his face, and Lucius cringed; she didn't look like she'd washed _anything_ in a while. "Fat lot of good it did me, didn't it? Stuck with that freak – "

"You will _desist_ – "

"And you'll make me?" Hildrea, if ever that was a name, threw her head back and laughed, a high, creepy thing that sent loathing through his stomach and the child beside him actually hid herself amidst the folds of Snape's cloak. "I've had my fill of the bitch, and I'll call her what I want. Always mucking around in people's head, lost me my job, all the neighbors think she's the devil, worse than the devil, the bitch, can't do anything right, KILLED MY FATHER – "

"Your father was a waste of space whose death was long overdue – "

"Lost me everything, but I put her to work, I did." The woman's dark skin contrasted with the pale hand clutching the neck of her dress, the moonlight glinting off of the trailing tears and spittle on her face. "I made her pay in every way I could. But no more. NO MORE GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT OF MY HEAD YOU FILTHY SHIT!" The woman flailed, and severs dropped her to the ground where she wrenched and screamed, yanking at her hair with torn, bloody fists and then she was up, lightning fast on her feet rocketing towards the small child and Lucius wondered at the madness. Severus caught her with a well-placed freezing charm, then cast a Calming charm on top of that, one shaky hand going to his temple. Lucius stared at that; Severus seemed to be in genuine pain. There was a pained whimper from the bundle of child near him and then a flash of white hot pain rocketing through his mind, a small, infinitely sad childish voice crying "Why don't you love me" and other images, flashes of pain and more crying angry faces and more men than any seven year old girl should ever know or experience and then Lucius was blinking through a thin film of tears, reorienting his senses just as Severus grabbed the woman yet again.

"WHAT. HAVE. YOU. DONE?" And Lucius had never heard his voice like that, never seen Severus' magic churn and froth and lash out like physical limbs on a many armed beast. It was humbling to watch, even if Lucius had had his magic.

"I never wanted her. Thought I could get more money out of you, but you disappeared." The calm the woman displayed only assured Lucius of her madness, spell-induced though it was. "I never knew where you went and your father was dead and normal people didn't remember you existed and then she started moving things, spinning spoons, rattling cupboard doors, crying and crying and then she started _reading my mind_ and I tried to beat it out of her and ignore her and she just kept coming back, always, nothing worked and I don't want her, Severus. I couldn't work and the men didn't care and she brought in money, but if I have to deal with her in my head one more time I will kill her, I swear. The last time I tried she healed herself, but fire's a bit more permanent, yes?"

Severus took this al in with a stony sort of disbelieving stare that Lucius knew heralded great pain for anyone on the other end of his wand. Snape's magic had stilled, spread out and arching over his form, as calm and silent as a predator waiting to strike. Lucius feared the woman had gone too far, but she was mad, clearly so. He couldn't let Severus kill her. "Severus. Severus, let her go. The child is here now, that is all that matters. Banish her to some far off region where she'll be attacked by dragons or something, and come inside." He watched the slightest flicker of emotion play over his friend's face, and sighed. "Do not tarnish your soul so, Severus. The child is safe. Come in."

But Severus could not just 'come in'. He gripped the woman with both hands, drawing their faces so close as to nearly be touching. "You abominable, festering excuse of a woman. If I see you again I swear to merlin I will kill you, in the most painful way possible. For this day forth you are cursed, let no man, creature or spirit find favor in you, you will suffer the wrath of the magic you've afflicted for the rest of your days! _Aeternum adflictatio! Calvario Porrectus! Remuneratio Raptus! Vesania Sempiternum!_ And if you survive any of this, I will be waiting to escort you to hell's door." The woman stared at him blankly, and Seveurs snarled, flinging her from him and into the vacuum of a banishing spell. IN an instant she was gone, the grand front entrance containing only one small child and two shaken men.

With a curse, Severus turned to the small girl that had retreated into herself, if her silent rocking was anything to go by. Lucius was already firing off mental instructions to his House and elves, who were more than amenable to putting a room together for the child. Give even the nastiest tempered house elf care of a child and they turn into the most angelic creatures…

Severus was now crouched in front of the girl, now, her little head just barely visible in the darkened entryway beneath Snape's dark cloak. He was murmuring something to her, something Lucius figured the child could not even hear, as her rocking continued with no change in tempo. He considered what had just happened before him, and the significance of it. Severus had just become a father. If the woman was to be believed, and Lucius felt no reason she was not to be, it was twelve, almost thirteen years too late. That the child looked little beyond mid childhood was a testament of the woman's foul treatment, coupled with Severus' horrible genes. He resisted the urge to sigh; Snape would never stop brewing.

And now Severus had lifted the child from the floor, something he could appreciate now that his mind was actively functioning again and could remember that cold tile on little abused feet was a _no_, and was striding away. Lucius debated within himself, as the House closed and sealed the doors, whether or not to follow the man. On one hand he was a young man, and while he was an excellent potions master and healer, he'd never learned to be gentle and his bedside manner needed an absolute rework. He would not know how to handle a small, needy child, especially one who would erupt into furious or confused tears at a moment's notice. Not to mention her rather vibrant form of reverse legilimancy; master Occlumens Snape was, but there was only so much mental torture one could take.

On the other hand, as a new father, he supposed the man deserved some time alone with his offspring. It would be unwise to tread in there while they were trying to form some tenuous bond…

"Lucius." The soft, fragile call of his name jolted him out of his thoughts. Severus stood at the top of the stairs, a lump of child lost on the black cloth in his arms, and wholly lost and confused expression so clear on his face the Lord Malfoy could see it from where he stood. There were actual tears on the man's face, and Lucius felt his heart go out to the man, and urged his chair forward.

"Right behind you, Severus."

_ . . .XX_.

When Narcissa found them four hours later, Lucius was dazedly topping off his fifteenth tumbler of scotch and Severus was dimly immersed in detangling the child's hair. Early morning sunlight was filtering through the high trees surrounding the estate as she strode in, disapproval written on every line of her face. Lucius probably should have cared, even a little bit, but the events of the past four hours had so drained him of emotional depth beyond what the already long day before had that he was functioning on alcohol alone. At least he was doing better than Severus. Snape was running on fumes.

It had been a grueling, grueling four hours, more so than he thought was possible. The little girl had never screamed, even when Snape had applied an antiseptic salve to an open wound on her back. He had managed to get a few short answers out of the child as Severus had worked, none of them pleasant or beneficial to anyone's sanity. There had been a tense moment when Severus had divested the small girl of her 'dress' and she'd proceeded to weep silently, separating her little knees in a position of submission that had made both men sick. Severus had managed to choke out an assurance that _that_ would never happen again, but the disbelief in her eyes had chilled something within them. Lucius was actively planning on tracking the woman, Hildrea the abominable, down as soon as he had his magic back, consequences be damned.

He had been aware that Severus had been married off shortly after their graduation from Hogwarts. Snape senior had accumulated a rather large debt in Severus' absence, and had somehow bargained for his son to marry the kingpin's daughter as a way to repay the debt. Lucius' first thoughts, when Severus had come to him an hour after the shabby ceremony, was that the man had wanted the child their union could produce, not exactly the marriage itself, though it would be beneficial, since it seemed that Severus rather well off than his parents. The thought had lit something in Severus, and Lucius had had a stormy three hours talking the man down from the rage he'd fallen into; if left to his own devices, Severus would have made himself the patriarch of his family that night. But Lucius was able to calm him down, and lay out a plan for him. A tincture of parsley and bitterroot would keep the new mrs. Snape from conceiving, especially since Severus could flavor it to taste like any number of other things; magic was glorious that way. Wait a year, then annul the marriage, get away scot free. It was as perfect as a plan could get without actually casting spells on Mrs. Snape. But she'd thrown all that out the window after a doctor's visit. Barren, or so the papers said, never a chance to bear a child. Severus had been relieved, and in the face of his wife's very real distress and apologies, arranged for her to have everything in his name at that point in time. The divorce was quiet and swift, and within six months Severus Snape had retreated into the magical world, single again.

Except Hildrea had lied. Or maybe the pregnancy had taken her by surprise. Severus had said she'd initiated a coupling the night before she broke her news; he'd let it slide, categorized as a woman clutching at what she could while it lasted. Lucius had never met her, since Severus had kept his magic a strict secret, but from what he knew of her from Severus' detailed descriptions over those few months, she didn't seem the kind to abuse a child.

Severus had healed the girl as quickly as he was able, his hands more gentle than Lucius had ever recalled them being. She had cried continually, silent as the dead, and Lucius remembered thinking that if by some miracle she hadn't already been dehydrated then she surely would be by the end of this. Her large eyes (was it his head or her youth that made then seem so _wide?_) had watched Severus' every move possible, and by the end, when the events of the night and the potions began to drag her into sleep, there had been a fragile sort of trust there in those eyes, one that Lucius resolved to fan into a blaze, if he had to do it by hand.

He realized halfway through the first ten minutes when Severus had peeled away the child's hair only to see the myriad twigs and dirt and hair clinging to the seeping wound there, that he was not needed for any sort of healing help, something he was not sure he would have been able to do anyway, or to offer any fatherly advice, something he was sure to be better at, but to be Severus' rock. The man had been shaken, more so than he'd let on and it was only by virtue of having known the man for years that he picked up the man's few tells; a twitch in his left eye, continually clenching his jaw, shuffling his feet as he moved instead of stepping. It had been heartening to see the man step away and face him when the child had lost consciousness the first time, his hands trembling but holding onto a tiny thread of hope and strength because Lucius had said he could.

Lucius had never doubted the depths of their bond, forged in the fires of adversity as it was, but to see it so plainly written on the face of a man who hid _everything_…Lucius was moved, and more than a little smug. He dared the man to deny their closeness after this.

But the child had drifted off to sleep and Severus had settled for cleaning her hair, since he'd scrubbed every other inch of her immaculate. He'd whipped out a comb from somewhere and had set to detangling and then spelling clean the thick rope of hair that had trailed down the child's back. If Hildrea hadn't been mad, Lucius would have made her ashamed of herself. The child's hair, once clean, was a beautiful shade of deepest black accented with the tiniest spiral curls he'd ever seen on a human being. Each singular strand seemed to spiral in on itself and he'd spent an entertaining three minutes experimenting before he'd become aware of Severus' eyes boring into his head.

Then he'd retreated to drink.

It wasn't all Severus' fault. By that point Lucius was feeling well and truly spent, and when faced with the newest in a long string of obstacles, he felt he was allowed to drink himself silly.

For the child did not have a name.

None. Nullus. The woman had called her 'bitch', 'slut', 'freak' or others along that line, but the child had recognized that none of these were suitable names for herself, and had claimed none. Severus had seemed singularly impressed and infuriated by that bit of information gleaned from the child's mind (for it seemed that while the child seemed mute, she had no means to control her ability to reach out and touch others minds, and Severus had trapped all her seeking tendrils and locked them onto him. Strange, but Lucius did not try to understand it.)

So when Narcissa turned to him with her fiercest scowl, Lucius did the only thing he felt he could. He gave in to the urge he'd been fighting to sob, and reached out to her with slightly aching arms (Severus glared at him and the potions he'd refused to take on time), and sniffled.

Narcissa glared for a second more for good measure, then bundled him up in her soft embrace and Lucius hid his face in her bosom and pretending the rest of the world didn't exist. He was tired, dammit, and as the Lord of his House felt he deserved to get some rest, and merlin knew he loved Severus but he wanted his bed, dammit, and didn't want to leave it for weeks. There was a bone deep ache rocking through him, one he'd been trying to drink away as he'd been determined to see Severus through this, but Narcissa's presence in his world had robbed him of that resolve; now he just wanted to curl up with her somewhere dark and soft and quiet and never have to leave.

"Do take him away from here before his senseless sobbing becomes any louder."

There was a glare in Severus' voice, rough and craggly from the night they'd had, but Lucius didn't care. Cared even less when Narcissa pressed a kiss to his temple. His head throbbed. He wasn't sure if it was the alcohol or the magic loss or exhaustion, but he wanted it to stop. Severus could exhaust himself into oblivion, but Lucius wanted rest and he wanted it now.

"I will put my husband to bed, Severus, have no fear." The room was silent for a moment, and Lucius thought Narcissa must have been watching the other man, choosing her words carefully. "Will you consider doing the same, brother?"

Lucius heard Severus' near frantic combing cease. The man was probably glaring into the middle distance, if he had the energy to do it.

"She will sleep for several more hours, will she not? And you have been awake, tending to us all for nearly a complete day; surely you know you need the rest?" There was more silence, and then a heavy sigh. Lucius tried not to be smug; it made his headache worse.

"Very well. I will settle her into bed – "

"A complete suite has been prepared next to yours, an adjoining common area between them."

Severus sighed again, and there was the sound of cracking bones as he stood. Lucius didn't feel the least bit sympathetic. "Thank you." There were softly spoken banishing spells and then the rustle of cloth and Lucius assumed Severus had lifted the child into his arms and then there were footsteps, a murmured "Good day" and then silence.

And as Narcissa placed another well-timed kiss to his forehead, Lucius felt himself drift off to sleep.

_ . . ._

Someone was watching him.

Harry kept his breathing slow and even, resisting the urge open his eyes to see just who was staring at him. He'd been awake for all of ten minutes when he'd first felt it. He wasn't stupid. He knew he was almost sort of kind of safe. Lucius' house seemed to be all different sorts of warded, if any of the conversations he'd overheard were to believed, so the only people capable of being his stalker were either of the Malfoy, or Snape. Or a house elf, but he didn't think they'd unnerve him quite like this.

But neither adult Malfoy was in the room. He wasn't sure how he knew that, save a gut feeling that the room felt different, but he trusted that feeling, and considered how he was supposed to go about confronting Draco, his new brother.

Snape wouldn't stare at him. Glare, yes. Harry could tell the difference between a glare and a regular stare any day. Plus, Snape would be standing a little away, being intimidating and such; his stalker was stretched out next to him in bed.

And that was weird, considering harry hadn't ever shared a bed with anyone. It hadn't been as bad as he'd imagined, since the Malfoys seemed determined to treat him like an actual child and not some charity case. But that sort of made him feel more like a charity case, somehow, and his forehead scrunched up in confusion. There was an annoyed huff in front of him, and then his stalker spoke.

"Honestly, you might as well open your eyes. I know you're awake, Harry."

And then he felt right foolish, his whole face sort of reddening under Draco's gaze. He flicked one eye open, then the next, adjusting them to the light, and then looked resolutely anywhere than at the older boy. It was _beyond weird_, sitting, no laying, here next to Draco Malfoy, who wasn't sneering at him, or calling him names, who seemed genuinely un-irritated with him being in his home and having just snuggled up under his parents.

"I'" not going to bite you, Harry. Really! You'd think I was some big bad snake or something." There was a tease in there, somewhere, harry couldn't exactly put his finger on it, but he knew it was there. He shot a look at the blonde from the corner of his eye and Draco grinned.

"Hi!"

Harry flushed, confused, and waved a little. "hi."

"Bloody _hell_, I thought you'd never wake up. You've been sleeping _forever_, and I've been trying my best not to wake you up, but _Merlin_ it was close." He went from horizontal to vertical a little bit too quickly for harry's liking, and prodded the smaller boy in the stomach, and Harry squirmed. "Come on then, up you get. Unless I shouldn't have poked you there. You're not injured in your stomach, are you? Mother will kill me if I've hurt you. Are you alright? Should I get a house elf? Or Mother?"

"I'm fine!" Harry blurted, more in fear that Draco would never shut up than of Narcissa's presence. She was quieter than Lucius, yes, but scarier than he'd thought to give her credit for. "I'm fine. Just sort of tired."

"I don't know how you do it, sleeping all the time. I'd have gone _mad_. Severus always doses me with something extra to keep me asleep through most of the time I'm sick, because I'd never sleep otherwise. The minute I'm able to move around I have to disappear or Mother'll make me stay in bed for_ever_. It's a nightmare."

Harry blinked, bemused. This was not the Draco Malfoy he'd known in school. He considered that statement, leveraging himself upwards into a seated position. Had he even known Draco in school? They had been rivals, yes, enemies even, but had he really _known_ who Draco was? He didn't think so.

"Are you hungry? I can call an elf with breakfast, but do you want to stay in here or go to your room? I never stay in the infirmary for longer than I have to but if you're staying, I'll stay." Harry's confusion must have shown on his face, for Draco asked "What?"

"Don't you, I mean, you don't hate me?" Harry curled in on himself, yanking on a lock of his hair. It was childish, but he didn't care; his world had gone all crazy and he needed to balance.

"Well, no. but I can see how you'd think so." Draco folded his knees in front of him, meeting Harry's green eyes. "I don't hate you. I thought you were a bloody pompous prat for all of first year, turning down a _Malfoy_ hand a friendship, pretending as if the rules didn't apply to you, not giving a damn what you _looked_ like, so I made it my mission to make you look bad. I wanted you to see that you weren't as good as you thought yourself to be. Second year was much the same, but I started to notice some things. Your ratty clothes weren't just the Muggle style I'd thought it was. There's a few muggleborns in Slytherins that sorted me out about that one, and you'd be surprised how much girls notice." He shrugged, somehow making the action look as elegant as a ballroom dance. "Father did some digging into the fiasco with your aunt, and I got a whole month's detentions for digging through your file in the infirmary…and all of a sudden I didn't want you to feel bad anymore. I figured we'd never really be friends, so I tried to stick to a maintainable rivalry, but I didn't really mean it anymore." He peered up at Harry, clutching his feet. "Do you hate me?"

Harry blinked, not sure what to make of all that. He'd always felt it unfair the way Draco treated him, but he didn't know if he could just trust him so easily.

But who was he kidding, The Malfoys had adopted him; it was either make nice with Draco or make his life more problematic than it had to be.

"Alright then." Harry shrugged, meeting Draco's silver gaze. "I don't like it. I've grouped you in with my cousin because of how you treat me and my friends, but, but I can forgive you, I guess. Start over?"

Draco beamed, holding out a hand, just like he had years before. His proposal was different though. "Hi, I'm Draco Malfoy. Would you like a brother?"

Harry blinked, all of a sudden fighting back tears. Draco's hand was steady and firm when he took it, and he had to clear his throat twice before he could speak. "Yeah, Ok." They shook. "I've never had a brother before."


	7. Propositions

AN: Sorry for the wait guys! Lucius and Sev didn't know how to start their brotherly bonding...

She was surrounded by idiots.

Narcissa huffed, throwing yet another child's robe over her shoulder. The tailor of the hour stood trembling in a pitiful stupor several feet away as she weeded through his 'best' selection. She needed fashionable robes for a little girl, not the nonsense this imbecile had brought her.

"This is your _best_?" She asked, so annoyed and disappointed she could barely muster a proper sneer.

His stammering annoyed her, and she sent him away. The problem now was that she had an entire half hour before the next tailor was scheduled to show up. She didn't know what to do with herself. It was going to be a long half hour.

Lucius was, admittedly, slightly less stupid, though still very, _very_ stupid from her point of view. Clearly he did not know the meaning of rest and recovery.

Severus, she would castrate as soon as he gave her another godchild. Yes. That would work.

She determinedly made her way to the upper floor (because proper women did not stalk or stomp, no matter what others may think) where she'd left her boys (she enjoyed that phrase overmuch, but didn't care), intent on making sure they hadn't murdered each other, or set something afire. Biased though she was, Narcissa knew her son, and even if he managed to get along with Harry for more than five minutes, something, somewhere within the manor would be destroyed by the end of the day. Such a little pyromage she had never seen! Lucius blamed her. She didn't refute it.

Still, there was no reason for them to be confined to the sickroom any longer. Harry was slowly gaining his strength back and was not actually ill, so he'd be moved to his new bedroom after lunch. And Narcissa rather savored each and every opportunity to restrict Draco to one room, regardless of the lifespan of said room after each sentencing, but Draco would surely do irreparable damage if restricted to a single room when Harry was not.

Not that Harry could truly move beyond a single room at the moment, but it would hardly matter to Draco.

Standing in the doorway of the sickroom, Narcissa sighed, feeling some of her irritation ebb away. Harry lay sprawled across the still enlarged bed, one arm thrown across his face, the other thrown out away from him. Beside him, cheek plastered to a sheet of parchment, lay Draco, a now dry quill held loosely between his fingers. Stifled a chuckle, Narcissa crept forward, removing the quill then easing the parchment from under the child's face, which crumpled and elongated as the blonde boy gave a petulant groan before he settled down again, face hidden in a fistful of sheet. She watched anxiously for Harry to move, or give some sort of protest to Draco's foot poking his side, but none came. And Lucius said they'd have problems with these two. Ha! He would learn, eventually, that husbands did not contradict wives on matters of children.

Especially not hers. She smiled, moving to fold her arms before remembering the parchment still in her hand. There, in Draco's messy scrawl, were the words:

**Harry**

**1-Sleeps too much**

**2-Doesn't snore.**

**3-Short**

**Things we can do together (providing he stops SLEEPING and Mother doesn't catch us)**

**Flying**

**Eating**

**Gobstones (if he hasn't before)**

**Go look at the Abraxans (he'll be my person since father says I can't go alone)**

**All-nighters (NOT sleepovers. We are not girls)**

Narcissa fought not to laugh, but oh, it was difficult. Carefully extracting Draco's foot and positioning Harry's arm in a way more conducive to blood flow, Narcissa turned down the lights, and left the boys to it.

No explosions. Yet.

She had just considered moving to her personal room for the next few minutes when the Floo chimed. Curious, she headed back to the main room.

There, floating patiently in the air, was a small blue envelope gently flapping powder blue wings, addressed to one Lady Narcissa Malfoy. She looked askance at the thing till it spun showing the wax seal that she immediately recognized. Another tailor, making excuses. She supposed the others hadn't wasted time telling their horror stories…

She was pleasantly surprised to find, instead, a conciliatory note offering to come at any time her 'irrepressibly busy schedule permitted, night or day, for as long as it took for you to be satisfied.' Narcissa quite liked that. At the bottom of the slip of parchment was a line to affix a time convenient for her, and because she was in such a good mood, Narcissa magicked a quill , signed and sent it off, before ordering tea and settling to wait.

He arrived before the tea did, an occurrence she found mildly alarming, doubly so as he came bearing nothing but his wand and the clothes he was dressed in. He greeted her with a deep bow, showing her a patch of baldness atop his head, his simple-cut green robes reminding her of spices. "Good day, Madam Malfoy. It is a pleasure to serve you, at long last."

"Master Werther, greetings. It seems you've been plotting on me."

He straightened with a smile. "You can forgive me, can't you? One does not wield a needle and thread, claim to be a master of the craft and not covet the presence of shopping royalty in their store."

"Flattery will hardly help you today. I cannot say any of your companions coveted my presence, or gold, before now. Their displays were abysmal to be polite, and truthfully, I do not have hope of that changing."

"I aim to inspire hope within you, madam."

"How so? You've no chest? I know for a fact that shrinking clothing tends to make them difficult and resistant to most spells and charms, so you surely haven't a little one in a pocket."

"Of course not, Madame Malfoy. My house-elf, Silky, is standing by as we speak with my fabrics, and I am here, at your command, to create whatever it is that you may desire."

Narcissa blinked, easing further into her chair. "You've no completed garments?"

"Not one. How can I create a dress for one special little girl if I have no concept of who she is? It would not be best for her, then, would it? It would be best for me, or perhaps you, but not her, who is actually wearing the dress. How do you feel when forced to purchase a set of robes not made for you?"

Narcissa hid a smile. "Wretched."

"Exactly. This little girl is special, no? You made it clear that these would be her first set. Every little girl, of every age, should have robes made for them, for their magic and for their smile. Every little girl should have their own pretty things."

"Indeed." She took a sip of her tea, not really tasting it, filled as she was with anticipatory energy. Here was a craftsman who knew his work. She supposed he wasn't called **Master** Werther for nothing. "Do you truly have a mastery in garment crafting, Mr Werther?"

"Cloth Composition and Garment Craft, yes. Traveled to France where I spent ten years studying under a score of elite crafters when I wasn't working with Muggle designers. Between classes, so yes, I know my stuff." He smiled.

"I can see that, yes. Alright then," she shifted forward in her seat, careful to keep him in her sights but prepared to watch the show. "Your subject is a little girl, small for her age, barely standing over three feet, of mixed heritage, severely mistreated, new to magic, hair like the night and far too much of it. Begin."

"Exact age?"

"Thirteen, nearly fourteen."

"Mixed?"

"Black."

"Mistreated?"

"Mother. Father now has custody."

Master Werther considered, then tapped the air before him with is wand. There, in the space between them, grew a figure, one three heads shorter than the man himself, shimmering and made of blue smoke, or shadow. Narcissa was impressed.

"Is this too tall?" the wizard asked.

"Far. And the girl is thinner. And not used to wearing clothing, either."

"Shorter," the model shrank and changed beneath his instruction, "Simple, Loose. Pretty. Yes?"

"Yes."

"Good! First color, green. Highlight the skin, invoke nature and healing, good for grounding healing and protection runes. Objections?"

"None." Narcissa nearly purred, delicate hands bunching in her skirts with anticipation. She could work with this. Finally, someone with _Sense._

BD!*BD!*BD!*

The firelight was only so much company. Lucius stared balefully around his study, ignoring the tall, sulking figure up against his bookshelves.

Severus had sought him out in the late hours of the evening, and all he had been able to gain from the taciturn man was that the girl had been put to bed and he needed adult company. There had been some moody mumblings about wasted time and regrets, and Lucius had let it slide, content to let the man gripe to himself till he was ready to seek counsel, as was the usual.

But Snape had turned silent and Lucius' patience had run thin.

"Well, buck up, man. You've been conned out of twelve years, fine. You can't get them back, so just make the best of the time you do have."

After a lengthy pause, Severus gave him a curious look. "It's been thirteen years."

"What?"

"Thirteen years since the divorce. If she was conceived on that night," he sighed, eyes flitting around the room, "she will be fourteen in March."

Lucius studied the man in profile was his mind raced. Had it really been so long? Surely, it was only another year, but really?

But Severus would know. He made a point to keep track of things that way. But that man seemed almost broken now as he gazed at him. "Severus?"

He didn't have to wait long. "I cursed her." The man's voice drifted softly over to him, from his face obscured by a curtain of hair.

"Well, yes. She'd just delivered your child in a state more reminiscent of the Dark Lord's houseguests. I do think you had a right."

A pause. "That wasn't her."

"Severus' don't be daft."

"The woman, the _girl_ I married would never have done that to a child, would never have treated anyone that way. She was her father's weakest, the only one who didn't work for him. He wanted to be rid of her, thought he was striking a good deal. She _knew_ what it was like to not have anything, to be treated like nothing because that was how he treated her, and her siblings made it worse. I _knew_ her. We understood each other on a level that transcended the ability to lie. She could not have hidden this part of herself from me."

Lucius glared, tapping the arm of his chair irritably. "So what are you saying?"

Severus met his eye then, his own onyx eyes damp. "Do you know what Legilimancy does to muggles?"

It took seconds for the idea to take hold in his mind and Lucius sputtered, wishing he could draw his wand and hex the stupidity out of his friend. "You're saying that child caused her own abuse?"

"No!" Severus roared. Lucius glared him down, though, and the man retreated with a sigh, gathering himself together. "My mother Legillimized my father – "

"He was a pillock – "

"Every day, for no reason – "

"Of course she had a reason. The bloody menace beat her! How much more reason does she need?"

"Lucius." Severus seemed to pray for patience. "Lucius, he only ever hit her, ever, after she'd rape his mind. He was content to spend days ignoring our presence, entire weeks even, and then she'd go after him, baiting him and then taking the fall when he fought back. She only ever had a problem when he turned his sights to me, but by then he'd become accosted to the rage, the drink." Onyx eyes met his. "By then he didn't need the prompting."

Lucius sighed, feeling a throbbing ache take up in his temple and cursed his own ingenuity. Of course, if he hadn't expelled Voldemort he probably would not have had Draco any longer. But gods, he was tired. And achy. And in no condition to handle a mopey Severus.

He stood, wavering a little on the spot and then soldiering through it. He found the tray that had been magicked into the room (the house was reading his mind, but he didn't really mind much) and poured a small glass of elf wine. "Severus. Severus take this. I'm in no mood to handle your whining – "

"I don't whine," Severus whined.

Lucius smirked, and pushed the glass forward. Severus took it, scowling, and Lucius enjoyed ten whole minutes of relative peace.

And then Severus spoke.

"Your turn. How come you by harry Potter"

He'd forgotten that it took less alcohol to render Snape inebriated. Dismissively, he shrugged. "Weasley brought it to my attention."

"And you, a Malfoy, listened to a Weasley? How on earth did he manage that?"

Lucius sniffed, examining his nails. "Weasleys have always been brutish."

Severus gazed at him a moment, and then his eyes widened. "He hit you."

"Like a coward, I might add. I've had no use to learn Muggle Dueling. He knew of my disadvantage and abused it.

Severus crowed.

Lucius glared. "You are a pillock, Sev."

"Tell me what happened." After laughing, he caught his breath. "Come, friend. My soul is weary, you know it. Surely you can entertain a friend in need."

Lucius scowl was petulant. "You're no friend of mine. I hope you laugh yourself right into St. Mungo's."

_The floo flared to life, and Lucius spun, surprised. No one was expected. _

_Out tumbled Arthur Weasley, looking dirty and disheveled on his Persian rug, and Lucius snarled. _

_"You owe me a debt, Malfoy."_

_Lucius sneered, and drew his wand. He could not refute that. "How dare you turn up in my house uninvited! The insolence! The vulgarity! The barba – "_

_A blow to the face, his delicate nose broken, he felt, a house-elf screaming, more blows, throwing down his wand and giving as good as he got, numb to anything but connecting his fists with the slightly squashy body atop him. _

_And then the cool wash of Narcissa's magic was on him and he found himself separated from his foe, suspended in the air and blinking away blood, his hair slick against his face with it, and Weasley babbling at his wife._

_" – you, Mrs. Malfoy. I don't think I would have been able to stop myself. Thank you. May I be put down?"_

_"Of course not. Either of you! Behaving like uncivilized savages IN MY GREETING PARLOUR!" Lucius winced, Narcissa was shrieking, not furious but beyond normally annoyed. He was in trouble now. "THERE IS BLOOD ON MY STONES! THERE IS BLOOD ON MY WALLS. THERE IS – LUCIUS! LUCIUS, TELL ME THAT IS __**NOT**__ MY BRAND NEW PERSIAN RUG!"_

_He could not lie to her. Never mind the fact that it would take the house elves less than a day to get the rug back to perfect and that __**he**__ had been __**attacked**__ in his own home. NO, none of that was important right now. "Yes, love, it - "_

_"One of you had better explain. Now!" She was hissing now, clearly furious. Lucius glared darkly at the remarkably less bloody wizard across from him in the air. _

_"Well, that just leads me into exactly why I came here." Arthur seemed to make himself comfortable before speaking, and Lucius felt his hatred grow. "Harry Potter."_

_What? "Why on earth would you come here to discuss Harry Potter?" The man was mad, __**mad**__._

_"Because you owe me a debt, Mr. Malfoy."_

_"You've just drawn my blood!" He roared, incensed._

_"True. But it was never my intention to fulfill the debt that way."_

_"You – "_

_"Lucius, silence!"_

_He fumed, and gestured for the other to get on with it. Arthur gave them both a searching look, before continuing._

_"You tried to kill Ginny two years ago. Not directly, I don't think that was your intention, I think you just wanted to get rid of something before You-Know-Who came back. Or you didn't think he was coming back. Either way, I don't think you wanted my Gin dead."_

_The guilt he was very good at hiding tried to drown him then, and Lucius took a moment before he spoke. "And you know this, how? I am, after all, a Death-Eater."_

_"Yes, that's true. But you are also a father. A Death-Eater would have hoarded that artifact, died for that artifact, for no other reason than because You-Know-Who told them to. You kept it, yes, but you tried to get rid of it. If you knew, and I doubt it, what the artifact truly was, what it did, and were a real Death-Eater, you'd have kept it within your family, produced a child or procured one for the diary's use. But you aren't a Death-Eater, are you? You're a father, and that makes all the difference."_

_It pained him, to have his loyalties paraded around as they were, safe in the privacy of his own home or not. He could feel Narcissa's eyes boring into the side of his head, and knew if he looked up he'd crumple beneath the weight of her forgiveness. "Your point, Weasley."_

_"Simple, simple. You owe me a debt. I owe one to Harry. There is a simple way to remove both."_

_"Does Dumbledore know you're trying to peddle his beloved savior off to Death-Eaters?"_

_"You and I both know you're not Death-Eater, Malfoy, keep up. And Dumbledore," Arthur sighed. "Dumbledore may as well say he's raising Harry for You-Know-Who."_

_"What?"_

_Narcissa let them down with considerably more force than necessary, and with sharp, quick flicks of her wand their injuries were bandaged and the room put to rights, both men slammed into soft, cushiony chairs and settled with tea and biscuits before she'd even made it from the stairs. 'Arthur Weasley, explain yourself!"_

_The man looked a little dazed with the speed with which he'd been treated, and Lucius couldn't help but smirk into his cup. That would teach him._

_"That was some splendid wandwark, madam!" Narcissa glared, and Mr. Weasley refocused. "Right, sorry. Molly and I've been taking care of Harry for a while now, and we've noticed some things, the children have noticed some things, we put the clues together and sussed out that Harry, sweet child, is being abused by his relatives."_

_"Abused? What do you mean abused?" Narcissa's voice took on that quality that reminded him forcefully that Bellatrix Lestrange was her sister. "Explain yourself!"_

_Lucius refused to comment that the man could hardly explain himself if she kept magically trying to feed him more tea. Arthur was a trooper, he'd handle himself. _

_"We don't know specifics, because Harry's like a steel trap when he wants to be, but they never send him anything, letters, presents, care packages, he never goes home for holiday unless it's the summer, they glare at him something awful when they pick him up from the station, I've seen harry struggle with his trunk, trying to get it into the booty of the car… He wrote Ron once that they weren't feeding him, and since then we've made a point to send him a basket of something every few weeks, they yell at him, don't call him by his name, and, well, the Twins and I, we suspect it's also physical."_

_Narcissa's gasp was sufficient for both of them, though he warily eyed the way her wand sparked in her hand. _

_"You've taken these suspicions to Dumbledore, I assume."_

_"Of course! But he keeps waving us off. At first, I thought it was because he was busy, didn't have time, this was after the fiasco with Quirell and the basilisk, but when Sirius Black got out and Harry left his relatives, and then last year with the tournament, Molly and I think he's trying to train the child."_

_"As a weapon." Narcissa stared at the red haired man wide-eyed before flopping back into her chair most ungracefully. "He wants the boy to fight The dark lord. He's a child! Younger than Draco!"_

_An icy needle stabbed him in the stomach then, and Lucius turned his eyes to the fire. A child! Was Dumbledore mad? Yes, he probably wsa. But, hadn't there been some nonsense about a prophecy?_

_"Dumbledore's not senile enough to put his hopes on a mere child for naught. He's got to have some sort of information he's keeping to himself."_

_"Lucius! How dare you give that __**idiot**__ the benefit – "_

_"No, he's right." Arthur looked as if he were thoroughly unburdened, taking a long draw of tea before speaking. "Dumbledore let a few associates in on a secret he'd been hiding. A prophecy made a few months before Harry was born, and pertaining to Harry and You-Know-Who."_

_"He's risking a child's life on a prophecy?" Narcissa was going to kill Dumbledore, he could see it written across her face. It was deceptively calm, unless you knew that the slight wrinkle between her eyes was a sign of danger. "A __**prophecy**__?"_

_"It's from a reputable source, he assures me."_

_"Who?"_

_"He won't say."_

_Lucius snorted. "Trelawney. There is no other reason he would have hired her. She was the most pathetic of her family in the Divinitive Arts, and the Trelawneys had always been unreliable."_

_"That would make sense." When two pairs of questioning eyes locked on him, Arthur explained. "Ron told me that Dumbledore told Harry that the prophecy she made about Pettigrew escaping to go to the Dark Lord was her second prophecy. It makes sense now."_

_"Good Lord. Two entire prophecies in the space of fourteen years. She's nearly level with her great-aunt Phyllis." He paused, stuffing away his family knowledge. "So why don't you take him in? Surely he'd love that."_

_"Because, Malfoy, just as you have generational wealth, I have generational debt. Molly and I are barely making ends meet as it is, even with the boys all working."_

_Lucius scoffed. "Surely a stipend from each of them would be - "_

_"More than they can afford, considering the debts they are all paying off." _

_"What debts? Weasleys have always been fairly well-off, and whatever debt you've racked up since that hag's death – "_

_"That hag was a spiteful old gremlin that signed debts into each and every one of my children's names. My father's sister would purchase and waste and forced my father to pay for it, in addition to the bills left over from that blood feud two centuries ago. By the time I was in my sixth year half of the family fortune had been lost. He couldn't be rid of her, grandfather's will forbid it, and she wouldn't be married, so he was stuck paying for her. When she passed there were bill collectors looking for Percy and Bill and Charlie, and while they were confused to be faced with children, they were adamant: pay the bills or face the Curse. I refused to have my children cursed for something they had no hand in, so I worked, still work, and pay something every month and they pay something every month. The boy's, they try, and they're good at keeping their responsibilities and helping out their younger siblings, and even the Twins have started working on some things. Caught them in the attic with the ghoul the other day, brewing God knows what, but they're quiet, and they're making money. I made them swear it wasn't illegal or harmful, so I know they're on the right track, as long as they don't tell their mother."_

_Lucius felt his stomach twist, especially when Arthur looked to be fighting back tears. Narcissa, on the contrary, slid forward in her seat. "But?"_

_He gave her a watery smile. "But Ginny. Youngest one, sharper than a tack that one. Clever enough to do anything, but you know how people are. Everyone discounts the girl. And all of her brothers are guilty of it. And sometimes I wonder, sometimes I'm so scared… She'd got all these curves, Merlin only knows where she got them from, and in a boarding room filled with girls, and you know how they are, Molly and I can barely give her school things, even with the boys' help, and I know she's beautiful, I've seen the way the boys look at her on the platform, and she's a girl, girl's need pretty things…I just wonder…"_

_"Pretty things she will have, Arthur, don't worry." And there Narcissa was, trying to drown the man in tea again. Lucius rolled his eyes. _

_"What exactly is it you want us to do, Arthur? You want money to adopt the child? I can have the goblins transfer it. A barrister? Consider it done. Wh – "_

_"Oh no, no, no. I've been assured by Dumbledore that Molly and I will never be able to adopt Harry, and if we persist in our investigations he will make sure neither of us sees another galleon again in life." The silence in the room was only broken by the crackle of the fire in the grate. Narcissa was on the edge of explosion. Lucius could hardly believe his ears. Then, "I want you to take him in."_

_"Us?"_

_"Done!"_

_"What?" Lucius gazed at his wife as if she'd suddenly turned into her sister. "__**What**__?"_

_"Oh hush, Lucius. Arthur, where does he live? We'll ge – "_

_"Narcissa, desist!" He stood up from his chair, feeling the need to pace. Not that he did not agree to getting one up over Dumbledore, the old hag, but there were things to consider, __**things to consider**__. "Why should we do this?"_

_"Well, because you're the only people who can. Sirius would take him in and lock them both in his family home, but he'd go completely mad within a week and Dumbledore has threatened him with Azkaban. Outside of my family and Ms. Granger, Harry has nothing, __**nothing**__, without Dumbldeore. I don't blame Ron and Hermione for sticking so close to him, but Hermione's attitude towards school drive away all chance of other friends, so Harry and Ron are all she has, and because of her, other students give the three of them a wide berth. And Ron, I love him, but he's not the friendliest child, never has been. He loves Harry, I know he does, but sometimes people look or do things because of 'Harry Potter' and then this jealous beast takes over my child. And he's a sore loser and hates anyone who disagrees with him. The only reason he's still friends with Hermione and Harry are because Hermione puts up with him, and Harry puts up with them both. Dumbledore's picked two children that will keep Harry on a certain path until either he snaps under the pressure or Dumbledore changes his mind, and neither option is pleasant."_

_"We should adopt the child because he doesn't have __**friends**__?"_

_"No, you should adopt him because even with those friends, Dumbledore will break him. He will use him and then throw him away, and we don't need another wizard to tell that tale, do we?" _

_Lucius twitched, the only sign he gave that he knew which wizard they both knew told that tale. _

_"Besides. If you take him in, you get one up on Dumbledore. Not only will you have the crown of the wizarding world living in your own home, think about the prestige you'll gain, in addition to what you already have, when the wizarding world finds out you rescued Harry Potter from abusive Muggles."_

_"You want us to go to the press?" Was this Weasley? Or an imposter?_

_"If it's necessary. If Dumbledore makes it necessary. He can be…difficult."_

_An understatement if there ever was one. Lucius sighed, gathering himself up. "Where does he live? We can hardly demand custody of a child when we have no idea where he is."_

_"He lives in Surrey, on Privet Drive. I don't know how to get there, Dumbledore sends people in by portkey to guard him. The children flew there once, but he's changed the wards since then, I tried with them but they kept getting confused."_

_Lucius frowned. "Privet Drive? I have an employee that lives on Privet Drive. Blessedly unpleasant, to be polite." He sighed. "I never enjoy interacting with Dursley."_

_Arthur positively sharpened in his seat. "Vernon Dursley?"_

_"It seems so. He is the divisional head of one of the companies I have majority shares in. You know him?"_

_"Harry's uncle."_

_Lucius eyes narrowed to slits, the simmering rage beneath his skin taking shape and bonding to a target. "I see."_

_After a moment of commiserative silence, Narcissa popped to her feet, clapping her hands together. "Alright. Lucius is going to call the Minister and get him to co-operate – I don't care how you do it just get it done, dear, thank you – and I am going to arrange a suite of rooms in the family wing for the newest addition to the Malfoy family. You two try not to kill each other, or I'll set you to clean with the house elves." _

_And then she was gone. _

_Lucius and Arthur spent a moment staring after her, then looked at each other, and snickered. _

_Lucius recovered first, crossing to the wine cupboard and gazing at its contents. "Weasley."_

_"Malfoy." _

_The man was laughing at him. At him! Lucius resisted the urge to pout. How could the man be so happy? "Ginny's debts outweigh her brothers' correct?"_

_A moment, then Arthur shifting in his seat. "Yes." _

_"Consider them paid. And her Hogwarts fees. I won – "_

_"Lu – Malfoy, I can't ask you to do that for me. I – "_

_"Who said anything about you?" He half turned to give the man his best condescending look over his shoulder. "I owe Ginevra a debt." _

_"You're paying it with Harry."_

_"That's my debt to you. The two are completely separate. Now, I won't presume to infringe on Narcissa's territory, and as she has already said that she will handle Ginevra's 'pretty things' I will leave her to it. I advise you, if you like your body in the way it is arranged, not to interfere."_

_Arthur struggled for a moment, and then he gave a trembling smile, one that made Lucius fear he'd burst into tears. "Thank you. Thank you."_

_"Hmm." He strode across the room, peering into the hall in the direction of the dining area. "Have you eaten? I do believe the elves are preparing brunch."_

_"I haven't… Molly and I left early this morning to speak with Dumbledore."_

_"Mr. Weasley, we simply must get this man out of your life."_

_Arthur stood, and gave Lucius a wide smile. "I agree."_

Severus gasped for air, his normally pale face blotchy and covered in tears. Lucius glared at the taller man, envisioning ways to burn him alive. Severus giggled weakly from where he lay on the floor, his rather comfortable armchair long forgotten. Lucius glared harder. Nothing about his story had been funny. "What exactly amuses you so, twit?"

Severus took a moment to catch his breath, and when his eyes met Lucius' they were dark and sparkling in a way Lucius hadn't seen in years. "Just you making a new friend."

Lucius' glare was positively petulant. "He is not my friend."

Severus giggled. Lucius regretted giving him that glass of wine. "If you don't stop laughing you'll never hear my proposition."

Severus giggled more, but managed to arrange himself in a sitting position on the floor. "What proposition. You want me to be Potter's godfather? I say no." Finding himself hilarious, he giggled again.

"Father-in-law, but you were close. More than I'd expected in your state." It took a moment for the words to sink into Severus'. Then the man's pale face contorted in rage.

"You dare – "

"To secure a future for my goddaughter? Yes." Lucius said calmly.

"She is in no position – "

"Neither is Harry, frankly – "

" – a mere child – "

"Both of them, obviously." Severus glared a hole into the side of his head, and Lucius huffed. "Honesty, Severus, you must admit it has its merits. No, don't interrupt me, just listen. You have an emotionally stunted daughter; I have an emotionally stunted son. Harry has no need for her fortune, the one I know you've made her the sole heir to. He has his own, and Black's and the secondary heirship under Draco. Thirdly, the boy has chivalry written into his blood. He'll die and be reborn as the worst dark lord in a century before he thinks to mistreat her. I also have no qualms in saying if I tell him to do it Harry will marry her, especially if he thinks it will protect her from something."

"You – "

"What?" Lucius fought not to crow in amusement at the look Severus gave him from the floor, knowing full well the man was fighting to form his words. Really, he should get the man drunk more often. "Am I glorious? I know. Brilliant beyond measure? I've heard it a thousand times, dearheart, but thank you."

"She…has been here…fourteen hours!"

Lucius hummed to himself. "Yes, I admit it took me longer than it should have to think of this. But in my defense I'm not in best form, am I?"

With a snarl Severus twisted, and Lucius ducked the scotch glass hurtling towards his head, unable to stifle a laugh. Severus sat on the ground, clumsily searching through his pockets, more than likely for an un-inebriation potion, the occasional swear breaking through his fevered babbling. Lucius was just glad the man had not thought to go for his wand, though he supposed it was only a matter of time before Severus did.

Usually he wouldn't have mentioned his plot to the new father, best friend or not. Usually he would have kept it to himself, plotted and schemed till there was no alternative but to give him what he wanted or suffer horrible consequences. Usually, but Severus was a special case, his daughter more so.

"Have you decided on a name as yet?"

The words seemed to still the dark man's movements, and he leaned against the thick armchair behind him. "No. She hasn't been awake, I haven't been able to find out who she is, discuss having a name with her." His eyes slipped closed tiredly. "I don't want to force something on her she won't like."

Lucius made a considering noise deep in his throat. "Forgive me for saying so, but I rather think she'll be beyond pleased with anything you give her, Severus."

"Doesn't make it right."

Lucius relented, conceding that his friend was well and truly drunk, if he was falling asleep on the floor. "Up you get then, before I call Cissy and she haves at you with her wand."

"Meanie."

"Quite." Severus remained seated, slumping further to the ground, even as Lucius found footing and rose. Lucius sighed, and the noise seemed to rouse the potions master for a bit.

"Don't wan' her mawwy Haw."

Lucius pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. Only because he loved the man like a brother he didn't douse him with a bucket of cold water. Or have an elf do it. "Severus, there is time still to ponder this. Up you get. Surely you don't want to upset the elves, do you?"

Unintelligible mumblings made their way to his ears, and Lucius rolled his eyes. Severus was just no _fun_ drunk. "Elf."

A little being popped into view, sending furtive, slightly vindictive looks Severus' way. Lucius glared his fiercest glare. "You are to transport Master Snape to his bedchambers, dress him for bed and leave him be. Understood?"

"Yes, Master."

"You are not to set any pranks or make him uncomfortable, now or when he awakes, in any way, shape or form, elf. He will be annoyed enough when he finds out one of you put him to bed. You are dismissed."

The elf gave him a dutiful bow before both it and Professor Snape vanished from view.

Now, to find Narcissa.


	8. Chapter 8

Lucius plotted.

People tended to think he always had some nefarious alternative motive with his plots, but the truth was plots were necessary. It was how successful ventures were started, how they all became successful. To say nothing of the fact that Lucius possessed true talent for it. Aside from his widespread contacts and ability to see potential where others did not, Lucius simply had a knack for seeing connections and facilitating them to his own ends. Was it his fault that others didn't?

Today, Lucius plotted like he had never plotted before. There was true necessity behind his schemes, not that there hadn't been previously, but today Lucius plotted and schemed as if his life depended on it (which it did, loathe as he was to admit it).

Which was why, why his floo suddenly flared bright yellow and then green, he found himself annoyed enough to draw his wand.

Yellow Floo meant that the person coming in was safe but unknown to the mansion's set 'Safe' list. Lucius knew his home to be warded enough to protect him from any attack, even one as close range as within his own study, but when he faced the Floo and came face to face with one Hermione Granger, Lucius Malfoy found himself truly shocked.

"My dear girl! I do hope you don't generally go bouncing about strange people's Flooplaces! You have no idea what kind of dangers you could end up encountering!"

"I didn't expect to be let in, to be honest." The girl took three steps toward him, the expression on her face that of one studying a rare specimen in the wild. "Is Harry here?"

Lucius sighed, inconspicuously concealing his wand before turning toward his desk. "Of course Harry is here, Ms. Granger. Did you not receive a letter from him stating just that?" He settled into his chair, feeling the furniture charms mold to his thighs and bring him closer to the desk. "And to think, Draco calls you the smartest witch in your year. Come now, be polite. Have a seat." He waved toward the chair before the desk negligently, already picking up the parchment he'd been filling with his script. "You've already disturbed me. You may as well be of some use."

She approached him cautiously, her wand held tightly in hand. "May I see him?"

"In a moment, Ms. Granger. My word, do you not follow instructions in that household of yours?" Silently, he sent word for a house elf to make sure Harry made himself presentable before he fetched him. Draco had dragged both the smaller teen and that blasted sphinx to the firepit the past two days (the child was convinced he would breed a new kind of fire salamander) and they'd returned singed and sooty each time; he would not have Granger thinking Harry was some slave child. Dumbldore would find out in an instant and the whole plan, conceptual though it was, would fall to pieces.

Besides, he had one third of the Golden Trio, as Draco said the school called them, all to himself for who knows how long. The brightest witch of her age, if Professor McGonagall was to be believed. A valuable piece in his plan, if he played this right.

"What exactly are you plotting, Mr. Malfoy?"

Lucius looked up to find the child seated before him, arms crossed and a steely glint in her eyes. Wasn't that a swift change. "I have no idea what you mean, child."

"I can read upside down. Harry will never agree to marry Ginny; he sees her as a sister."

Lucius blinked, carefully reaching for his self-inking quill and scratched out that line. "Noted. Are there any other suggestions to anything else you've seen?"

"Just you re-growing all Harry's bones. I've read up on Skelegro and it's far too painful to attempt. The nerve damage alone would make the whole venture a waste of time."

"Yes, but who said anything about Skelegro. That potion is primarily used for small breaks and singular regrowth; therapy of the nature I am planning requires a more delicate approach; I have a team of healers waiting to handle to entire process."

"Why are you re-growing his bones?" There was something suspiciously like nonchalance in her voice, and Lucius found himself amused.

"They need re-growing."

"I don't suppose you'll tell me why."

Lucius smirked. "That depends. What do you know of Mr. Potter's home life?"

"Enough to be relieved he's not living there any longer." She met his gaze unflinchingly. "I'm not sure if it's a good thing that he's here, but that can be revisited."

"If necessary."

"If necessary."

Lucius resolutely did not fidget, though he could not deny the child made him slightly nervous. She was all of sixteen years old, a full year older than Draco, but he knew that if she put her mind to it she could thoroughly ruin every one of his not-yet-complete plans. Ordinarily, he would circle around the issue at hand, find out what the other wanted and maneuver them into complying with his desires, but he was dealing both with a child and a Gryffindor; being direct would serve him better in this.

"Let us be frank, Ms. Granger. What is it that you want?"

"I want Harry to be safe, primarily."

"Done."

"I'll be the judge of that. Additionally, I'd think you'll appreciate several specific points on my agenda."

"Your agenda, Ms. Granger? You sound as if you've been busy."

"I'm rarely not busy. I received Harry's letter last evening and made a decision. If you can help Harry, then I can help you."

"You can help me?" He didn't doubt she could, but the audacity of one so young...

"I can. And you will want me to. For now, however, may I see Harry?"

BD~!~BD~!~BD

Lucius found himself smug.

Ms. Granger stood beside him, staring at the scene before them in abject shock. Truthfully, he should be more concerned with the state both boys were reducing his family sitting room to but, for now, Lucius found himself too amused.

Harry and Draco were playing some sort of demented Quidditch match, from what he could understand. Only they weren't flying, but hopping from one end of the room atop the furniture, every single piece of which had been hit with a trampoline charm. The well-worn Quaffle they fought over seemed to be similarly bewitched to bounce an extra six times its normal capacity. Lucius watched, entranced, as Harry hopped past Draco, somehow swiping the Quaffle and bounced his way towards Draco's 'goal', a pair of large double doors thrown open to reveal a small balcony. Draco howled in outrage and hopped back in pursuit, but it was too late. Harry hopped onto a side table and made a clean shot before he whooped like a demented owl.

"Score!" the boy crowed, seconds before Draco plowed into him. Both boys tumbled to the floor before bouncing halfway up to the ceiling, the sticks they'd used as brooms reverting to their original forms, couch cushions.

"You cheated." Draco made a mad swipe at Harry's ankle, only half hiding a wide grin.

"I did not!" Harry launched a pillow, which Draco ducked, the move causing him to bounce in the opposite direction.

"I'm telling Father!"

"I assure you, Draco, I know all about it." Lucius stepped forward slowly, casually waving his wand to cancel the charms around the room. Of course, he wasn't casting any spells, but Ms. Granger didn't know about his deficiency, and it would remain that way. The mansion gave him a conflicted muddle of thoughts, and Lucius picked up on the loudest: fondness and amusement at the children's antics. Of course the house would like the mess the brats made.

Both Harry and Draco had paled to a shade that made them look ill, and Lucius waved them into chairs, lest one, or both of them, pass out.

He strolled forward, taking his time, aware that the Granger child watched his every move; he was sure her piercing gaze caught every ripple of his robes over the lush Indian carpet.

"Well?" He took care to draw out the single word, secretly pleased that both boys looked even more nervous. "What do you have to say for yourselves?"

Harry and Draco shot each other furtive glances, an entire indiscernible conversation taking place in the space of seconds, and then they both turned to him, faces pale but resolute. Lucius could have purred. Three days and they were already acting as if they'd been raised together. Ha! If Narcissa could see them now.

"Nothing?" He flicked the tail of his robes behind him, pleased to see not a single flinch from either child. Wonders would never cease. Draco had never had this much backbone, not in the face of deserved reprimands and punishment, to say the least. "Nothing to say at all? You both have no words to offer as to your horrible, foolish, hooli - "

"Mr. Malfoy, do desist. I think it's patently clear to everyone in this room that you're not going to punish them. If we could hurry this along?"

He was going to have words with that girl.

"Hermione?"

Green eyes widened even as their owner trotted across the floor, trouble forgotten. Steel grey eyes, so like his own, flicked over Lucius' face once before Draco followed suit, both coming to peer at the girl curiously. That is, until Hermione grabbed Harry in a death grip of a hug.

"I swear, I leave you alone for three days and you turn the Wizarding world on its head!" She pulled back, only to have Harry grin up at her a little sheepishly. "You just can't stay out of trouble, can you?"

Harry pinked. "I don't try to, Hermione..."

"He sort of just trips into it, to be honest," Draco chipped in, slipping his hands into the pockets of his over robe. Lucius watched them converse from a far, carefully filing away Draco's discomfort. It really was a crush. Heavens, they'd have to correct that. Well, Narcissa would have to correct it. Lucius felt it could run its course. If Draco were serious about the girl then nothing this side of Merlin's death could convince him otherwise, but he wouldn't dare voice that to his wife. Not, Lucius would leave that well alone.

Though the Granger girl seemed to get along well in mixed company. She was brash, for certain, unpolished, but frighteningly intelligent. Lucius would be a fool to let her slip from his grasp, and Lucius Malfoy was no fool.

BD~!~BD~!~BD

Narcissa did not appreciate being kept out of the loop. She did not appreciate it one bit, and appreciated even less her husband's apparent disregard for her lack of appreciation. It wasn't often that he did, but when he did, Narcissa found it never boded well.

She turned another corner to find that her information had been correct. Hermione Granger had somehow made it into the house and stood interrogating her youngest son in the hallway outside the sun room. Narissa watched them, the way Harry fidgeted and Granger stared at him intently, and felt herself almost preen. She'd been right. With the Granger girl poking and clucking after her boys they'd be the top of their year in no time. Not that Hogwarts scores mattered one wit; Narcissa had very different goals in mind for Harry and Draco.

Her blonde child sauntered out of the sun-room, hair plastered to his slightly pink face, a pair of broomsticks in hand, followed by his smirking father, whose robes hung open from the waist, wisping over the floors. Narcissa's eyes narrowed to slits when Lucius' met hers and he smirked even harder. She had a single moment to wonder what on earth he was up to before he bent over Ms. Granger's slight shoulder and spoke.

"I am loathe to interrupt your conversation, Harry, but will Ms. Granger be joining us for dinner?"

Narcissa hid a smile. Lucius played a dangerous game. Goading the child into blowing up was perhaps far too transparent for their standards, but then again, they were dealing with Gryffindors. She watched as Hermione reddened but kept quiet and Harry, sensing something but not knowing exactly what, looked between Lucius, Draco and his best friend before offering a timid, "Er, Hermione?"

"Thank you so much for asking me, Harry. I'd love to."

The look the teenage girl graced Lucius with over her shoulder seemed pure ice. Narcissa wondered if her husband's self-preservation had left him along with his magic. Lucius beamed at them all before sauntering away. "I'll instruct the house elves to prepare an extra place at the table. Do try not to be late, children."

"You have too much fun riling Gryffindors up," Narcissa murmured once Lucius drew near enough to hear, stealthily slipping an arm around his waist under cover of his robes. "It's nearly indecent."

Lucius grinned down at her, a wicked glint in his eye. "I thought you liked it when I'm indecent?" His voice, pitched low and soft, sent shivers down her spine. Before she could reply, another voice interrupted them from behind.

"Honestly, you'd think we didn't have company the way you two are carrying on. Kindly refrain from traumatizing us, if you will?"

Lucius's fine eyebrows rose to his hairline as he half turned, and Narcissa caught a glimpse of Hermione's annoyed but amused expression over Harry's shoulder, before her gaze came to rest on her eldest, who did his best to uphold his mildly disgusted expression. Lucius drew himself to his full height, and Narcissa bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling.

"My dear boy, disgusted though you may be, this is how you were made!"

Predictably, Draco's mask shattered with a grimace. "Ugh, Father! Images! Images in my head!"

Lucius sniffed. "It's not my fault you have a dirty mind."

"Ugh, Harry, run before he corrupts you, too." Draco took off down the corridor, yelling for Harry all the way.

Harry hesitated, and Narcissa couldn't help but be pleased. They'd somehow bonded more than she'd expected, but she supposed she should never underestimate the power of Quidditch. "You should catch him quickly, Harry. Only Merlin knows where he'll take it into his head to go off to next."

Gripping the girl firmly by the hand, Harry sheepishly sped down the hallway, blushing extra hard as he passed by them, her arms still wound around her husband's torso. As soon as the pair had cleared the end of the corridor, she heard the distant tempo of running feet, and chuckled, dropping her head to Lucius' chest.

"My dear Mrs. Malfoy, had I known that I had only to fill the house with impish children to encourage your touchy-feely tendencies, I would have done so much sooner."

Narcissa actually laughed, drawing her head back to gaze as her husband's twinkling eyes. "You want me to be more touchy-feely?"

Lucius faked a blush, peering down at her coyly from beneath his lashes. "Well, since you asked."

She laughed, swiping at his chest playfully as she drew away, starting down the hallway towards their study. "Imp."

"Yours." Warm breath ghosted past her ear as he slipped an arm around her waist, drawing her flush against his side as they walked. "What have you been up to lately, dearest? You've been coming to bed dreadfully late these past few nights."

"It's been one night, Lucius."

"Too many."

"Poor dear! Whatever shall you do?"

"Hold you hostage until you confess?" Lucius asked mildly.

"I'm sure you'd enjoy that far too much." Lucius hummed agreeably, steering her around a corner. "How are the Weasleys doing?"

Narcissa counted four paintings of the same cliff somewhere in the Mediterranean from different angles and noticed for the first time that this particular hallway had a massive snake carved into the wall before Lucius answered, tense against her shoulder.

"Molly is insisted the boys pay them a visit. Frankly I'm convinced she's convinced that we can't afford to feed them and is planning a feast the likes of which neither of us has ever seen."

"how nice! Perhaps they'd like to go tomorrow. They can take Ms. Granger and they can all spend the day carousing before Draco's friends descend on us."

"They're children, Narcissa, not hellions. They don't descend."

"So you say." They walked along in silence, Lucius' thumb agitatedly tapping against her side. "And the lawyers?" She asked gently.

"Amazing. Superb. They're doing more than I thought they'd be able to. Apparently Arthur's pleasant reputation precedes him and when they found out I wanted to work on behalf of his family they just about fell over themselves getting started."

Narcissa smiled, linking her fingers with his. "You sound the slightest bit jealous, dear."

Lucius sniffed. "They're never that nice to me."

"Poor dear." They approached their study slowly, neither willing to relinquish their conversation. Soon they stood feet away from the door, Narcissa's head tucked under Lucius' chin as they swayed softly. "I take it things are going well, then."

"I wish it were. Dumbledore has offset so much red tape in his meddling its taking the entire firm to work through just the Weasley case. They've discovered case after case of gross negligence in many of his other affairs, and his handling of Harry's case..."

Something hard and fierce gripped her then and Narcissa tensed, ready to hear the slightest detail she could use to tear the old headmaster to shreds. "Now, now," Lucius said over her head, suddenly rubbing soothing circles down her back. "Down you simmer. We'll handle Dumbledore the correct way, this time. The slightest deviation and he could throw our entire case out."

She stood up straight, eyes flashing. "Nonsense! Lucius - "

"Cissa." His soft voice cut through her arguments and she fell silent, a mutinous expression on her fair face. "Don't think for a moment I'm not completely aware of all the particulars. When we persecute the old bag I want to strip him of every discernible measure of dignity. You can have the rest of him after that."

"Can I kill him?"

He curled a lock of her hair around his finger, a small smile tucked into the corner of his mouth that she steadfastly ignored. "Ensure its untraceable and looks natural, and you may. Tarnish his reputation for all eternity as well and I will fulfill your every desire."

She tipped her head thoughtfully, good mood restored. "I thought you were supposed to do that anyway?"

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Don't question me, minx."

BD~!~BD~!~BD~!~

A sharp, clear knock on their study door interrupted Lucius' furious thinking some time later. He almost would not have heard it, had he not chosen that moment to gaze askance at the portrait of his many-greats granduncle dancing a one legged jig above his desk.

The knock sounded again, and Lucius turned away from his desk, only to find a bemused Narcissa opening the door.

"Hello, Mother," Draco's voice drifted into the room. "I'm sorry to disturb you and Father, since I know you're both very busy. Hermione here seems to think she has an appointment with Father. I've assured her that the thought alone is preposterous, however, she insisted."

"Indeed. Your father is terribly busy, however," here she turned to peer at him, and Lucius could see the faintest smile hidden against her cheek as he motioned for The Granger girl to be let in, "I do believe he may grant you audience, Ms. Granger. Do come in."

"And only Ms. Granger," Lucius hastened to add. He knew his son and he would be positively brimming with endless curiosity that would only hinder the machinations about to come. The boy would pout about it for sure, but Lucius wouldn't be there to see it.

The Granger girl, after greeting Narcissa, walked in cautiously, eyes darting around the room in a frantic sort of nature (though Lucius was sure the girl would swear she was absolutely not frantic) before coming to rest on him. For his part, Lucius made no effort to remove himself from his desk, and found himself more than a little put out when the girl merely quirked her lips briefly before greeting him.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. Malfoy. I'll endeavor not to take up too much of your time."  
>Lucius sniffed, suddenly feeling as if the meeting was out of his control. "Of course you will. I'll not have it any other way, would I?"<p>

The child smiled at him falsely as she took a seat. "Of course. Now, what do you think should be our first order of business? Plotting the complete reorganization of the Hogwarts curriculum? Shall I explain to you the finer points of the action plan to sway the wizarding world to your side? Would you like to hear my ideas for new legislation, procedures and my pick for Minister? Or do you want to tackle all the Harry business first?"As she spoke, Hermione had tapped a line along the edge of his desk, and from each point sprung a young plant made of paper, stretching upward as if reaching for sunlight. They stood little more than three inches high, but Lucius recognized the skill behind the spellwork, even if he didn't recognize the spells themselves. To transfigure pre-written notes out of thin air and into the shape as she'd done was way beyond Newt level, if it were at all possible. To do it without wand movements of incantations was another matter entirely. Even if she'd thought the incantations, to do so while speaking was a skill he didn't even think Dumbledore possessed. And as he gave the matter more thought, Lucius realized that it was impossible to transfigure parchment in that way. They'd have to be summoned first, then transfigured; what Granger did was more mind magic than the average sixteen year old should even think about being capable of.

"I wonder, Ms. Granger, if I should adopt you as well."

The child had the temerity to laugh at him. "Oh, I assure you, Mr. Malfoy. Harry Potter will give you more than enough to deal with, have no fear."

"Yes, I was rather afraid of that."

BD~!~BD~!~BD

Dinner turned out to be an enlightening affair.

Well, enlightening wasn't the word harry would have personally used, but its the one he heard Hermione murmur to herself at least ten times in the space of ten minutes so he figured she was right and that the odd events that had happened were actually enlightening, and not any of the myriad other words bouncing about his brain.

First, they got down to dinner, and though Draco and he had had another wrestling match (the blond was convinced he could hold Harry in a headlock, a move he'd been dying to try on someone since a fellow Slytherin showed it to him a week before finals) and neither looked presentable for dinner (indeed, Harry's shirt was torn in three places) both Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy welcomed them both to the table with nothing but eye-rolls and soft smiles. It still felt downright odd to have the Malfoys, whom Harry had sort of gotten into the habit of thinking were evil incarnate, welcome him into their family gatherings, and when Lucius patted the chair next to him and across from Narcissa, then gripped his shoulder in a firm but good sort of grip as he lowered himself into the proffered chair, Harry didn't quite know what to feel.

That was the first thing Hermione dubbed 'enlightening'.

Then, Draco proceeded to give his parents a complete rundown of their day together, including the Quidditch match that Harry had been sure would get them into trouble but hadn't. What made it notable was that Draco spoke, and sometimes shouted, around his dinner salad. Lucius watched him with obvious fondness in his eyes, occasionally admonishing the teen to "Empty you mouth before you speak, Draco" which Draco either ignored or forgot halfway through his thought.

Mrs. Malfoy also showed herself scarily good at keeping conversation. He had no idea what she and Hermione spoke about, but unlike Mr. Malfoy's occasional question, which all seemed to be geared towards irritating the girl, Mrs. Malfoy and Hermione enjoyed a fairly civil, if not pleasant, conversation.

Hermione found that, too, enlightening.

And when the doe Patronus materialized above the table, announcing in Professor Snape's voice that he and his daughter would like to attend dinner (and that he'd appreciate if the Malfoys could restrain Draco from eating it all) and the Malfoys flew into a frenzy casting spells and ordering more food and pulling both he and Draco from their chairs to transform their clothing, Hermione simply stared, though she did confide in him later that the way Lucius handled him in particular she found very enlightening.

Truth be told, so had Harry. The man had said, back in Number Four, Privet Drive, that he 'wanted Harry', and for the most part both he and Mrs. Malfoy had done a wonderful job of making him feel welcome, even letting him join a family cuddle session a few nights ago, but Harry had always thought actions spoke louder than words, and actions in the midst of panic, moreso.

So when Mr. Malfoy's hand came to rest against his cheek, Harry didn't really know what to do with the suddenly-there lump in his throat. Knew even less what to say as the man asked him about dress robes and favorite colors and styles. Clueless, Harry found himself in a pair of flowing grey robes, very similar to the ones Mr. Malfoy himself wore, and then the man stood right in front of him, attempting to tame Harry's hair. A lone tear escaped to Harry's cheek and Lucius wiped it away before Harry could even catch it.

"There now. I'm not that bad of a hair stylist. I do my own every day, see?" He pulled a single lock over his shoulder and waved it between to fingers.

"Lucius, dear," Mrs. Malfoy called from where she stood commanding a stubborn Draco into his robes. "You use spells every morning. I'm not sure that's the same thing."

"Narcissa darling, how many times must I tell you not to contradict me in front of the children!" Mr. Malfoy stamped his foot for emphasis, but winked down at Harry good-naturedly as he directed him to spin. Harry turned, only to find Draco receiving much the same treatment from his mother.

"I would, darling, if only you wouldn't insist on speaking such nonsense in front of them." Harry noticed Narcissa hiding a smile and felt his shoulders relax. Draco rolled his eyes and Harry gave the taller teen a small smile. Yes, he'd been mostly sure the Malfoys were joking between them, but he couldn't be sure. To see Draco's reaction assured him more than Mr. Malfoy's wink ever could. Harry didn't ponder that further.

A house elf popped into the room near the doors, a sharp pale grey tunic strung across his thin shoulders. "Master Snape is approaching the Grand Dining Room. Shall Malsie open the doors for him, Master?"

"One moment. Is everyone ready? Line up near the doors now, here - Draco, _do_ leave those sprouts alone!" Insistent hands nudged him towards the front of the hall where Narcissa stood fussing over Draco, who suddenly had a mysterious green stain on his left sleeve. Hermione stood a little ways off, until Narcissa spun and drew her closer, and Harry made it over to them in time to hear her explanation.

"It is pureblood tradition to welcome new members of the family with a semi-ceremonial introduction ceremony. Welcoming members stand in a line, usually in the family room, since most welcoming ceremonies are done for newborns, but since we're already at dinner, and Severus' daughter is not a newborn, as adorable as she is, we'll do it here. Now, the whole point of the welcoming ceremony is to hear the child's name, and say something nice. Once upon a time, magic was bound to words, and blessings were spoken over children. Times have changed, but if you feel the urge to bless the newest member of the Snape family, do not hesitate to do so."

Her slim hands passed over his hair and under his chin, and Harry found himself graced with a warm smile and bright blue eyes. "We'll have another welcoming ceremony for you, dear, in about a week when Patriarch Malfoy comes in from France."

Harry's brow furrowed on their own accord. "Patriarch?"

"My great grand-father Septimus Malfoy has agreed to make the pilgrimage to meet the newest member of the family." Lucius intoned boredly. "Prepare yourself for endless stories about his arduous, work-filled childhood and to be poked and prodded within an inch of your life. His newest wife is an old French maid who desperately believes that Narcissa and I cannot feed our children, the dear."

"She is a dear, isn't she?"Narcissa smiled.

Malsie popped in once more and announced, "Master and Miss Snape!" and then the doors were flung open.

BD~!~BD!~BD

The first and only thing Harry saw was his Potions professor striding toward them. He wore deep blue robes that cut away from his legs and ghosted over the floor like a dark, angry cloud. He didn't seem angry, a distinction Harry marked by the lack of frown lines marring his pale forehead, and his hair had been pulled back into a sloppy braid behind his head that looked like it had been done by a toddler though Snape wore it proudly. It wasn't till Snape came to a stop feet away from them did Harry realize someone was behind him.

"Welcome, Master Snape to Malfoy Manor. We, the Malfoy family, bear witness with you this day of the joyous addition to your House. Shall you name the child?"

Snape gave the tiniest of smiles and reached behind him as he spoke. "I thank you, Master Malfoy, for your welcome. I present to you Adara Imogene Snape, heir to Houses Snape and Prince." Out from behind Snape reluctantly came a small, thin little girl with the darkest, longest hair Harry had ever seen. It hung down her back in a thick, long rope made of intricate braids threaded through with golden thread and tiny little crystals Harry thought may be diamonds. She peered out at the world owlishly as she clutched a handful of her father's robes, her own a bright green covered with intricate golden patterns that made Hermione gasp beside him.

Harry watched Mr. Malfoy beam and step forward till he was two feet in front of the small child, who tipped her head back into her father's thigh to keep him in her sights. "Welcome, Adara Imogene, to Malfoy Manor. May your prowess and skill surpass that of your father's and that of all your family before you."

Adara's forehead crinkled as she peered up at her father, who translated. "He wants for you to be very, very good in all things magic."

Satisfied, Adara graced Lucius with a short nod, to which he smiled and retreated, his robes swaying gracefully around his ankles. Narcissa swept forward next, and Harry watched as Adara's eyes widened at the woman's voluminous skirts. "Welcome, Adara Imogene, to Malfoy Manor and the House of Snape. May you blossom like the brightest Crisidium Helianthus annuus in summer, and sparkle like the great Moon Diamond of Crete."

"She just wants you to be pretty," Snape murmured, smirking.

"Prettier," Mrs. Malfoy corrected. She blessed the child with a smile, and was pleased to receive a small, unsure one in return.

Draco stepped forward as his mother returned her place next to her husband, robes rippling against Harry's own as he passed. "Welcome, Adara Imogene, to Malfoy Manor. You are a precious child. My godfather will do well by you, I promise. May your life be filled with good fun and trusted friends, and may your lifeblood run strong in your veins."

Adara crinkled her little forehead, and Harry heard Snape chuckle above her. "He just means he wants you to be happy and healthy, child." He smoothed a thumb down her forehead, temporarily obscuring her face, and Harry realized with a thread of panic that he was next and had no idea what to say.

Adara bobbed her head and Draco retreated, and Harry felt his heart leap into his throat and hammer. Before he knew it, Draco had nudged him and his traitorous feet had carried him forward the few steps to take him before the newest member of Snape's family. Harry had no idea what to say, but figured if he looked up his brain might jump into gear and actually help him, for once.

He looked up and gasped, unable to help himself. "You have the most beautiful eyes!" His heart seemed to stop then beat too slowly in his chest, but Harry didn't care, captivated as he was by the jet black orbs staring up at him. He watched, entranced as her pupils dilated, blacker still than the rest of her eyes framed with short, thick lashes, and a slight pressure behind his eyes made the room spin.

But it wasn't spinning, not exactly, just out of focus. Harry sensed, in a way he couldn't explain, that what was happening was magical, but as images of Hogwarts and his friends floated up to his mind's eye, he couldn't bring himself to care. Adara was beautiful, and not in a way that would be weird, but there was something about her magic that he couldn't...ignore...

And then a vision of Vernon's huge, purple face surfaced, shattering the calm. Image after image flew by, escaping his attempts to hide them, pull them out of her hold but somehow, Harry couldn't catch them, couldn't push her out and couldn't break away from her dark gaze even as he felt himself shuddering against the hold she had on his mind. Something like ice gripped his heart as another memory surfaced, the fear from then coupling with true terror because he couldn't control his own mind and this was different than with Snape because there was no pain, no chance to struggle, this was image after image of his personal life being torn from his grasp. He lurched again, lunging for a series of images from Vernon's latest attempt on his life, when a deep, calming presence settled over them both like a blanket after a long day in the cold. The images stilled, seeming to hover and float gently in midair as the soothing warmth seemed to seep into him and Harry relaxed against the safety he felt there. Something about the presence felt familiar, and Harry lunged for it, feeling it wrap around him and hold him steady as Adara fought against the grip in his mind. Snape. The soothing mind presence was Snape, and Harry didn't care how he knew it, he didn't care that Snape was in his mind and it didn't hurt and that he _wanted_ the man there as long as he helped, he just cared that Snape seemed to be arguing with Adara, somehow, scolding her, even, because these memories were Harry's not hers, and she could not simply barge into someone else's mind and rifle through their thoughts. Adara's was a complicated, if petulant, response Harry couldn't quite grasp, but she did let Snape lead her from Harry's mind.

Harry came back to himself blinking, furiously trying to bring the room into focus. There was a large, warm hand against his chest, probably connected to the warm body supporting most of his weight. He shifted, trying to get his feet beneath him, only to be stopped by pressure against his sternum.

"Wait a moment, Harry. You've just been Legilimenized. Give your eyes a chance to adjust."

Yes, that made sense. Harry ignored the awkwardness of leaning on Mr. Malfoy and tried to keep his head from swinging. There was a light ache behind his eyes that reminded him unpleasantly of Legilimency lessons with Snape. He squinted into the middle distance, trying to see what the man was up to.

Snape held Adara up on his hip, their heads very close together and as his vision settled, Harry realized that Snape wasn't talking to her like he'd first thought. Instead, they were staring into each other's eyes. Legilimency. Is this what he and Snape had looked like? He blinked and looked away, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Mr. Malfoy's hand on his chest became unbearable, and Harry shrugged out of his hold, apologizing all the way.

"It is quite alright, child. Legilimency regularly incapacitates children when done forcefully."

A spark of anger lit in his chest, but Harry swallowed it down. "It won't happen again, sir."

Before Mr. Malfoy could speak again, Snape had set Adara on her feet. Her little face blanked as she made the few steps over to Harry, and offered one small hand to shake.

_'Sorry I looked. Is bad. No more.'_

Harry blinked, and frowned. It was obvious by her tone, if a mental voice could have tone, that she didn't think she did anything wrong. Also, if she was really sorry about invading his mind, why was she doing it again? But on the other hand, it didn't look as if she knew it was bad. No one had explained anything to him about who Snape's mysterious new daughter was, but Harry could guess she hadn't been handled very well before she came here. The thought made him both sad and angry. Who could do such a thing? How could Snape let that happen? He looked up a moment to find the man gazing at him silently. Harry fixed him with a glare.

_'Don't worry about it.'_

Adara nodded, wiggling her fingers on her still outstretched hand. _'Shake?'_

He gazed at her curiously, trying to wrap his mind around the new concept of magic happening right to him. Snape had said that no one could read minds, so what was his daughter doing? _'Why do you want to shake my hand?'_

She blinked. _'Friends. No mad._' She blinked at him again, suddenly unsure, her small hand retreating towards her stomach. _'Is mad?'_

_'No!'_ Harry stepped forward, catching her hand before she could withdraw it. _'I'm not angry with you. I just have a lot of things on my mind.'_ Like talking to a strange girl in his mind whose father he sort of hated, but he wasn't about to tell anyone that.

Adara seemed content to stare at their joined hands. _'Messy head,'_ she said sagely.

_'Yes. I suppose I should bless you now, before your father gets angry with me.'_

_'Papa no mad, Green Eyes. Just grumpy.'_

Harry didn't believe a word of it, or that she'd just given him a nickname. "Yes, alright. May you always know truth and protection, and never have to worry if you're wanted or not."

"Well said, Harry, child!"

Harry turned to find Mr. Malfoy still annoyingly close. He nodded tersely, avoiding Draco's questioning gaze. _'I've got to step back now. Hermione has to say something and I think your father wants to hug you.'_

She was gone without a word, and Harry silently made his way back to his spot in line. He didn't know quite what he felt, or why, but the confusing mass of emotions would have to wait till he could get away to be deciphered. Hermione stepped forward, after some prompting from Mrs. Malfoy, and Harry only barely heard her blessing, catching only a few words pertaining to 'knowledge and wisdom of the ages' or some such. He ignored Draco trying to get his attention and didn't join in the celebratory welcome chant after Hermione's blessing. When the fuss died down and the families turned to the dinner table, Draco loudly exclaiming that he could eat a dragon, Harry politely excused himself.

"I'm sorry. I no longer have an appetite. Excuse me." Not waiting for a response, he left.


	9. Chapter 9

Snape found him minutes later.

Or maybe it was hours. Harry had no concept of time.

He'd sequestered himself in the very parlor he and Draco had demolished earlier that day, near the back behind the large, heavy oak bookshelf Harry had mistakenly thought stood up against a wall. He'd flopped about all the lounge chairs there, before he found the one that was both least comfortable and least likely to give him back pain, and Harry thought.

He thought about wringing Snape's neck for a long time. Maybe an hour. He thought about it till it didn't make sense to think about it anymore. He wasn't even sure he could properly articulate exactly why he was so completely furious with the man. He got as far as thinking that the greasy git should have held him and treated him the way he did his daughter before harry cut off all thoughts of Snape, and directed them towards his current situation.

He was safe, relatively. He knew Voldemort had broken into the house once before, but the dark lord hadn't sought him out, and if Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy were to be believed, he couldn't seek him out, not unless Harry went looking for him. Harry had no intentions of doing that.

Mostly, Harry wanted to do lots of exactly that.

He'd sulked for about an hour. Or at least it felt that way.

About the only goo thing that came out of this whole Malfoys-showing-up-at-his-aunt's-house was that he'd gotten away from the Durselys. He'd thought to add Draco into that list, but knew that the camaraderie they shared would go down the drain as soon as Ron came back into the picture.

Harry wasn't looking forward to that.

Mrs. Malfoy was nice, but Harry couldn't tell why, and that made him uneasy. Yes, he liked the attention, he could admit, even, that a tiny part of him craved it, but it had only been a few days. He'd learn to live without it again.

Because Harry knew he had to leave.

Yes, he was safe and the Malfoy's were mostly good to him, but his holiday had come to an end, and he knew it.

Snape was here, and Harry knew he could never rest with the potions master close by. Not outside of Hogwarts, and if the Malfoy's really had opened their home to Snape and Adara, then Harry would be out of here by morning.

Even if Lucius didn't like it.

Harry had scoffed. Who cared what Lucius Malfoy didn't like? Surely he didn't. He ignored the tight, niggling feeling taking root in his chest, and refused to even think about the man. Harry wasn't an idiot. He knew when he was being used. If it made the pureblooded wizard feel any better, he could still use Harry's name to further his influence. Harry'd even be open to public outings with the whole 'family' just to keep up appearances. But he was no fool. He would be used, but he'd use them as well.

The Malfoys had influence, and so did he. He could use that the get Gringotts to give him full access to his vault. And to find out how he could access Godric's Hollow, and use his money to make it liveable and stay there. The Malfoys could reach him if they wanted to, but he doubted that. He'd be free and safe and able to do what he wanted. He'd get the goblins to do the Fidelius Charm with him as the Secret Keeper and meet up with the Malfoy's for the Hogwarts shopping trip but he'd spend his time alone, in HIS house, on HIS terms, unless he decided he wanted to see the Weasleys, but they didn't have to know anything.

By the time Snape found him, Harry sat with his chest heaving, fighting to get his breath under control so the bookshelf could stop shaking.

Snape stood in the slim space between wall and bookshelf, apparently unphased by the slight quake affecting this part of the room, watching him. The thought made Harry angrier, and he flung himself from the seat lest he explode.

"Did you need something, Professor?" If he had been in a calmer state of mind, Harry would have been proud of himself for keeping his tone even and respectful.

Snape took a moment to respond, and in that moment, Harry seethed. "Yes, actually, Mr. Potter. However, you seem most agitated. I wonder if I should alert your new...guardian."

"You can do as you like, sir, but I don't think that's necessary."

Snape fell quiet, and Harry made a last ditch effort to control his temper. He thought of Sirius, and how he'd be able to see the man as much as he liked as soon as he left. Hell, he could even hide out in Sirius' room at Grimmauld Place for a while; the man would get a kick out of pulling one over everyone else. The thought eased some of the agitation running through him, and with one more breath expelled slowly, slowly, slowly, the bookshelf ceased its shaking.

"Well done," Snape intoned. Harry ignored it.

"How can I help you, sir?" Harry made sure he didn't sound peeved in the least and that he'd turned at least in the man's direction. He wasn't quite ready to look at him just yet, wasn't sure if he'd be able to hold his tongue if he had to see those cold, fathomless eyes.

Nothing like Adara's.

"I wanted to apologize for my daughter's behavior. It had not occurred to be that she would seek access to anyone else's mind. She'd been ... taught otherwise."

"Not by you, I hope?" A tint of nastiness colored his tone.

Snape paused. "No, not by me."

They stood in silence for the longest three seconds of Harry's life before he caved to the pressure. "Apology accepted. I hardly felt it. I'm used to people barging into my head without permission, remember?"

Snape tensed, and Harry might have preened. _Finally_ he was going to have it out, get this all off his chest. Maybe he could make the man pissed enough that he told Malfoy to chuck him out. Maybe Harry'd break a few vases, there were enough of them in this half of the room alone to choose from.

"I apologize for that as well."

What? "Excuse me?" Harry met the man's eyes for the first time all evening, obsidian on emerald, one pair calm, the other wild.

"I said I apologize for barging into your mind repeatedly last year in what was incorrectly named Occlumency lessons."

"So you admit you were wrong, then?"

"Yes."

Harry couldn't believe his ears. "Did you plan to do it? Did you know you were hurting me? Did you do it on purpose?"

"i knew, but that was not my intention."

Harry swore, whipping his robes towards his back in a passable imitation of the man before him. "You cannot expect me to believe that."

"I expect you to believe that I do not make a practice of lying for no reason, nor do I have need to lie to a temperamental pint-sized wizard who still exhibits wish-magic." Harry seethed, taking one step toward the taller wizard. "I expect you to believe that if I had wanted to cause you harm I know many, many ways to do so without leaving you cognizant and able to report me."

Harry glared. Snape had a point. He heaved a breath and transferred his gaze to the vase closest to him where it trembled on a pedestal. The trembling ceased. "Explain, then. You can't seriously expect me to believe you didn't KNOW it hurt."

"No, I knew. I had been warned that you would react badly to the method - "

"So why use it then!" Harry burst out.

"Because I was told to."

The air seemed to be thick as porridge, and Harry forcibly took a seat. "Dumbledore?"

Snape inclined his head. "Alas, Lucius was correct. A functioning, thinking brain does live between those ears. I owe him a galleon." Harry glared. "Legilimency is an art, a magical art passed on through bloodlines. As with all bloodgifts, one is either born with it or not. It can be taught, but at great distress to the learner, the intensity of which varies according to the gift."

"And Dumbledore told you this?" Harry intoned.

"Headmaster Dumbledore informed me of the only method of teaching Legilimency he knew. He assured me that your proficiency with magic would make using that method redundant after two months of sessions, at most."

"But that isn't what happened."

"No. There are factors involved that I was not aware of, but Dumbledore was. Factors that led me to believe that our lessons, for lack of a better term, were having the opposite effect of protecting your mind."

"Then why didn't you stop? Give me a book? Get McGonnagal to cast some wards around my bed? Why continue?"

"Dumbledore assured me that the course of events was common, that the mind had to become aware of its vulnerability in order to engage its natural desire to defend itself. He insisted that I continue, and as the only other natural Legilimens at the school, I complied."

Snape fell silent, but Harry couldn't begin to care. It had all been Dumbledore's plan. He knew those lessons would hurt him, knew that something wasn't right, and instead of stepping in, instead of changing the plan, he kept on. Even when he knew information no one else did. Speaking of...

"Why are you apologizing now? You make it sound as if you didn't know this before." He didn't care if he hadn't said 'sir' or if Snape looked ready to grill him alive. For the first time ever, someone from Hogwarts was being straight with him.

"You are correct. I am a natural Legilimens. My...upbringing did not support individual exploration into my magical abilities. I did not even know books about it had been written, had never had the need or occasion to discover if they had. However, the morning after I regained custody of my daughter, Lucius sent me an entire bookshelf half this size," he gestured to the bookshelf behind him, "filled with tomes on the subject, some as old as Hogwarts herself. It seems that though Adara is a natural Legilimens, she unconsciously practices a little known form of it, and much instruction is required to keep her from doing what she did with you today, or worse."

Harry couldn't find fault in that. He knew all too well what Snape meant about his upbringing; Harry's had somehow omitted the fact that he was a wizard and not a freak.

He shook his head, willing the empty thoughts away. "Apology accepted, sir."

"Since I'm 'sir' again, perhaps a word of advice?" Snaoe asked, eyebrows raised high.

Harry frowned and refrained from rolling his eyes. He could guess where this is going. "Yes, sir?"

"Don't burn your bridges before they have even been completed. There aren't many others to cross."

With that, Snape slipped away.

AN: Hello lovelies! I'm going to try for shorter chapters, even if they're single scenes for all my fanfiction works. Its not so much that I don't have inspiration of these fics, its that in addition to everything else going on in my life, the thought of a WHOLE CHAPTER is so daunting, you wouldn't believe. Hope you enjoyed this one, and that is wasn't too short.

Cheers!


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